


How You Play The Game

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Implied threat of rape, Injury, Kidnapping, Other, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, dead things, enclosed spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Y/N is a frequent hunting associate to the Winchesters, and has been in love with Dean as long as she can remember. Her past comes back to trap her, and she finds herself fighting for her life in a place of nightmares… is she alone?





	1. Chapter 1

“Burger for Dean,” Y/N mumbled, pulling the carton of fries out to place next to the bacon cheeseburger that the oldest Winchester was currently salivating over. “And your extra large fries.” He grinned, not waiting to pounce on the food, greedy fingers tearing at the wrapping. Y/N rolled her eyes in amusement after handing Sam his salad shaker and dressing before placing her own carton of pancakes onto the table.

It had been a long ass drive. A call from Garth had put them on the trail of a shifter working its way through rich households in the North East, and from Kansas, it was a straight three day journey. This motel was the first stop they’d made, and after three hours of light sleep, it was breakfast and back on the road.

The shifter knew they were tracking it, and was trying to stay one step ahead. So far, it was winning, but Dean was confident that they’d find the thing and gank it quickly.

“I spoke to Mason, he’s got a positive ID on the shifter on camera in Fitchburg. Another sighting just west of Boston, followed by the body of forty-eight year old Moira Cassidy, a real estate mogul.” Sam chomped on a bit of salad as he scrolled through the article the other hunter had sent. “Neighbors swear they saw her leave her house at ten on Monday morning, but she never came back, and her car is still missing. Husband came home from a business trip to find her body in the bedroom, cause of death was stabbing, and she’d been there a while.”

“So times don’t add up,” Dean mumbled, a mouth full of beef patty and cheese, and Y/N shifted her knee against his abruptly, scowling at his awful table manners. “What?” he defended, prompting her to shake her head and look away again. Dean swallowed noisily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ve got another six hours to Boston. Finish this and head out?”

The buzzing of a phone interrupted the conversation, and Y/N pulled her cell from her pocket, blinking at the screen. It was an unknown number, but she knew immediately who would call her on this number and not text first. “I gotta take this,” she excused herself, standing and walking out onto the path at the front of the boys room. Swiping to accept the call, she took a breath and answered. “Hello?”

“ _Nice to hear your voice again_ ,” said a gruff tone on the other end, and Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. He was wheezing on the other end, and she knew his emphysema wasn’t getting any better. “ _Was starting to think you were dead_.”

“Well I’m not,” she replied tersely, walking away from the motel room door, hugging herself with one arm. “Something I can help you with?”

“ _I found it_.”

Silence stung her ears, and Y/N froze on the spot, a cold chill assaulting her spine. Needles pierced  her in the stomach and she felt like throwing up. “Where?”

“ _Pennsylvania. York._ ”

“I’m only a few hours away from there,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. “But we’re hunting a shifter, I can’t just drop and go -”

“ _You have to._ ”

She narrowed her eyes, not understanding the sudden urgency in his tone. “Dad, I can’t just go, I’m in the middle of something, and it’s not a rush. We’ve waited thirty years - a couple more days won’t hurt.”

He sighed on the other end, and she could see him now, sitting in his big old armchair, in front of the fire at his cabin. His self-imposed exile; unable to hunt, unable to do much of anything except research and wait for a reaper. The great Irving hunter line reduced to just a crippled old man and the daughter he’d forever be disappointed with. “ _You had a chance to do this sixteen years ago. Do you remember?_ ”

Oh, she remembered. She remembered the blood and the pain and the screaming. She remembered the demon laughing in her face, taunting her with pictures she’d never scrub from her mind. And her father knew that she recalled everything in perfect clarity.

“He can’t get out,” Y/N murmured, but the argument was weak. If he’d found the demon’s talisman, the one she’d encased him in, he’d want her to go straight away. Finish the job. Finish what she’d supposed to have done sixteen years ago in Wyoming.

It was the one thing she’d kept from the Winchesters, despite their shared history. John Winchester had been friends with her dad, both of them on the same mission for revenge; both of them dragging their kids along for the ride. For a while, Y/N hadn’t wanted the life - she wanted to go to college, to have a family, away from the blood and death and demons.

Funny how things changed.

Now, that future seemed further away than ever. She was past thirty now, and still hunting, still tagging along with the Winchesters for most of their cases. The offer of a permanent place to call home at their bunker, not needing to retreat to the cabin, was more than she could pass up. They didn’t judge her, didn’t expect anything of her but to be who she was, and she didn’t have to remember that her father was clinging to life because of her mistakes.

He should have been dead a long time ago, but she knew the secret that kept him alive.

“ _I can’t go. And you need to._ ” The urgency in his tone was even more edged now, and Y/N frowned. He was usually insistent, but not like this. “ _It has to be done_.”

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“ _I’m fine_ ,” he replied, too quickly, and followed it up with a nervous chuckle. “ _We don’t know who has it. It’s there right now, but who knows if one of Berith’s followers have it, or if they will move it. You need to go, now._ ”

There was a pause as Y/N looked back to the motel room, knowing that the boys could handle this shifter without her. They’d understand, and she could get the talisman, take it to her father, destroy it and get back to the bunker without any problem. If the Winchesters still needed her after, she’d go to them.

Her decision was made, and she sucked in a breath, nodding against the phone. “Where in York?”

*****

“I’m gonna be back in a few days. I’ll call when I’m done, and you can let me know where you are.” Her words were firm, but inside, Y/N was all jello. Dean was watching her with that intense stare, that little tick in his jaw belying his displeasure at her abrupt departure. “I’m gonna be fine. It’s simple recon for my dad, that’s all.”

“Just recon?” Sam asked, his worry reflecting in his eyes. His shoulders were tense where he had his arms folded across his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits. He was searching her face for something, anything that would give him a reason to side with his brother’s silent protest.

Y/N smiled, walking up closer to him, putting her hands on his biceps. “Sam, I’ll be fine. You know I can handle myself.”

“It’s not that we’re worried about,” Dean interrupted, his fingers twitching at his sides - he didn’t have anything to fidget with, and worse, nothing to stop him reaching out and holding her close so she couldn’t abandon him. He knew he was being an idiot - a few days wasn’t abandonment - but since she’d become a more permanent fixture in his life, he couldn’t stomach the thought of anything happening to her. “Last time you did a job for your dad -”

“It’s not a job, Dean -”

He didn’t let her stop him. “Last time, you had a fractured ankle and a shattered jaw. Excuse me for not wanting to come and find you in a goddamn hospital again.” Y/N softened at his apparent panic, and slid away from Sam to his brother. The younger Winchester seemed to sense that they needed a moment and stepped back. Dean was shaking when she put her hands on his face, cradling his cheeks and forcing him to look into her eyes.

“I’m gonna be fine,” she insisted, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll text every damn hour if you want, Dean, but don’t treat me like a fragile girl.”

“You’re not a fragile girl,” he replied, the little line between his eyebrows become more evident as he stared into her eyes. “I just don’t trust your dad.”

“I know. You know I don’t either, but this… it’s important.”

“Why?”

Y/N sighed. “I can’t tell you right now. When it’s done -” Dean sighed, dragging himself away from her hold. “Dean, don’t -”

“Why can’t you tell me the truth?” he asked, stopping her dead. Her shoulders slumped, and she exhaled, closing her eyes for a brief second. “Y/N, you know that whatever it is, me and Sam - we’ve seen worse, sweetheart. And you trust me - us - right?” She nodded, giving him a tiny smile. “Then why can’t you tell -”

“Because I can’t. Not right now. When it’s done -”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head furiously as he turned away, storming past his brother, who blinked in shock at the sudden movement. Y/N watched him go, feeling the sting of tears at the back of her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. “Sam -”

“He’ll get over it. Just stay in touch, yeah? And we’ll see you in a few days.” His strong arms were around her then, holding her tightly and for a moment, she relaxed into his hold, taking comfort in his scent. “Dean just worries. You know he’s -”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, begrudgingly. The subject of Dean’s feelings, and hers, was one of Sam’s favorite topics. He was convinced her and his brother were written in the stars, and Y/N certainly knew she loved Dean, but with the life and everything in between, a confession of deep feelings had never cropped up.

It was difficult when things kept trying to kill you.

“Be safe, call us if you need anything,” Sam finished, kissing the top of her head before pulling away. Y/N turned to the car she’d bartered for two hundred bucks off of a local dealer, hoping it would get her at least halfway. As she turned over the engine, grimacing at the gritty rattle it made, she waved at Sam, who waved back. For a second, her gaze lingered on the shut motel room door.

“Just a few days,” she muttered, putting the car into reverse and pulling away.

*****

By the time she pulled the battered old Citroen into the motel parking lot off Route 30, Y/N was even more tired than she had been. It had only been a few hours, but the constant driving of the last few days was taking its toll.

Her dad had called again, asking where she was, and the way he’d spoken had her even more worried than before. He was desperate for her to get to the Seven Gates Of Hell - an absolutely wonderful name for the tourist spot that was conveniently on private property - and retrieve the talisman. Y/N had assured him she was on it, and booked a room at the motel for only one night. Tomorrow, she’d have the stupid talisman, and be on her way to Washington to give her father the opportunity to destroy the demon that had destroyed their family.

Berith was an ancient Lord of Hell, but still a demon. Y/N had never seen his real face, but she knew the curse he’d enacted on her family. The vengeance he’d sworn on her bloodline. And she remembered how she’d failed to kill him, trapping him in an enchanted object her grandfather had passed down through to her.

Changing into her FBI gear, she tried not to think of that night. She avoided looking into her own eyes as she fixed her make up and dragged her hair into a ponytail on top of her head. Assessing her appearance, she sighed - the pencil skirt was uncomfortable as hell, and a little too tight around the middle, along with the blouse that she couldn’t do up to the top because her breasts had a habit of bursting buttons.

Dean had seen that happen once, and his eyes had damn near popped out. He’d never hidden his physical attraction to her, and flirted mercilessly.

Y/N wished she’d had the courage to take it further - now it was just how they were, a comfortable routine of best friends, and she didn’t want to ruin that.

“Could I find a topic that doesn’t make me wanna eat an entire batch of brownies?” she groaned to herself, before grabbing her gun and sliding it into the holster hidden underneath her smart suit jacket. “Let’s go be a fake agent.”

The Seven Gates Of Hell were on property belonging to a family called the Devlins. They were rather well-to-do, and owned most of the land around the township, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little out of place as she parked the battered Citroen on the driveway, climbing out and approaching the house. Flashing her badge to the staff granted her entrance, and instructions to wait in the foyer.

“Agent,” a middle-aged woman wearing a pastel pink dress and blazer emerged from the sitting room, giving her an entirely fake smile that showed the lipstick on her teeth. Y/N suppressed a shudder and held her hand out as greeting. “I’m Mrs Devlin. How can I help you?”

“I’m Agent Dawson,” Y/N replied, smiling and unable to take her eyes off of the pink stains on the woman’s teeth. “I’m investigating some unusual occurrences in the area, vandalism and so on - speaking to all the residents.”

“We’re a little isolated out here for that,” Mrs. Devlin replied, gesturing to the sitting room, and Y/N nodded, following her through to the plush room, trying to ignore the embellished decor. “But we have had issues in the past. Teenagers trespassing, mostly.”

“On the gates?” Y/N asked, conveying innocence.

Mrs Devlin nodded, her smile turning into a thin line of ire. “My husband caught six of them last week, trying to summon something - can you imagine? Those gates are nothing but Civil War remnants - nothing mystical about them.”

“But no vandalism?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But the grounds are open, Agent Dawson. Feel free to look around. My staff are on hand if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Y/N smiled, offering her hand in gratitude, and Mrs Devlin smiled again, the lipstick still insistently clinging to the enamel of her slightly yellow teeth. “Your cooperation is appreciated.”

The lady of the house left her, and Y/N made her way back outside, grabbing her duffel and a flashlight, before heading off into the woods that surrounded the opulent house. It was still light, but she anticipated being out here for a few hours at least. If her suspicions were correct, the demons were using the gates, maybe as a way to restore their former master.

Two hours in, and Y/N had found three of the gates, but she wasn’t getting anything. The gates seemed just like Mrs Devlin said, old iron remnants of history - even the EMF didn’t pick anything up. When the sky dimmed, and her phone chirped, she answered, still looking around the third gate.

“Hey,” she greeted, feeling a thud in her belly as Dean answered.

“ _Hey, kiddo_ ,” he grunted. “ _We just got to Fitchburg. How’s your thing going_?”

“Not as straightforward as I thought, but nothing I can’t handle,” Y/N replied, frowning as something rustled in the bushes ahead. She turned the flashlight, illuminating the eyes of a squirrel that scarpered off into the darkness. “Goddamn squirrel.”

“ _You know I hate that nickname_ ,” Dean growled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, there was a squirrel - nevermind. I shouldn’t be longer than tonight getting out of here. I’ll call when I’m on my way -” Her phone beeped loudly, and Y/N scowled, pulling it away from her ear to check. Her dad’s cell number flashed across the screen, and her heart dropped into her stomach like a lead weight.

He never called on that number.

“Dean, I gotta take this, I’ll call you back, okay?”

“ _You better_ ,” he snapped, before hanging up, allowing her to answer the other call.

“Dad?”

“ _Y/N -_ ” He was barely audible, and her heart seized with panic, making her feel sick. “ _I’m sorry, baby_.”

“Dad?! Dad, you gotta -”

For the first time in years, she heard his voice, clear and steel, but something in his tone tattled that it was the last time she’d hear it. “ _Baby, you need to hop a jet, now._ ”

Panic gave way to icy needles in her skin as the air around her shifted, and she moved her free hand for her gun. “This was a trap,” she whispered, hearing her father gasp for breath on the other end of the phone. A single gunshot rang out down the line, and Y/N screamed. “Dad!”

The butt of a gun collided with the base of her skull and she crumpled forward, unconscious in the dirt. Behind her, Mrs Devlin held the hunting rifle as she stood over the downed hunter with black eyes and a wicked grin. Hooking the gun under one arm, she picked up Y/N’s dropped phone and held it to her ear. “We’ve got her.”


	2. Chapter 2

Before she opened her eyes, Y/N knew she was restrained. Instantly, cramps in her calf muscles and arms made her hiss, and when she allowed her eyes to flutter open, she immediately snapped them shut at the bright light above her.

She was moving too, on some kind of vehicle. Judging by the sound… she couldn’t tell if it was a train or something else, but it definitely wasn’t a car. There was a constant low roaring sound, and whatever she was in shook a little.

Taking a breath, almost tasting the air conditioned oxygen of her prison, Y/N opened her eyes, steeling herself for the light. It was a long, thin fluorescent tube, glowing eerily against the metallic wall behind it, and Y/N swallowed thickly, realizing the identity of her transportation.

A fucking plane.

Groaning, she rolled her head to the side, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings. She was entirely alone, restrained on what looked like a gurney, with a thin blanket covering her from the waist down. The clothes she wore were the same fed skirt and blouse she’d had on, but her sensible shoes, and her jacket, were both missing.

“Hello?” she croaked out, attempting to clear her throat. No one answered. It appeared the plane was large, and her spot was in a small compartment, but it definitely didn’t look like a passenger flight - more like those cargo planes that you saw James Bond jump out of in the movies.

Oh god, she really hoped they weren’t going to throw her out.

“Hello?” The second attempt to get someone’s attention was just as fruitless as the first, and Y/N sighed in frustration. Her hands were bound by her sides, stretched a little too much but she didn’t have a whole bunch of wiggle room to get comfortable. Obviously whatever they intended for her, her captors did not care for her immediate comfort. “Gah! Hey, bad guys?!”

Still nothing. Y/N attempted to thrash in her bonds, but the effort only left her panting and sore from the straps rubbing into her skin. With an irritated yell, she lifted her head and slammed it back down onto the gurney, gritting her teeth together.

She had no idea how long she was alone for, but she’d gotten bored of trying to remember every single Green Day song from 1990 through to 2017, and the tune to “Minority” had been stuck in her head for at least an hour. When the door at the far end of her cell opened, despite the danger it could be providing, Y/N sighed in relief.

“Thank god, I was starting to go crazy,” she quipped, grinning at her captor. He was a young man in a clean white shirt and black slacks, dark hair slicked back against his skull and a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face. A scar ran around his throat, and Y/N instantly knew this was a meatsuit, and her captors were demons. “So, how does one survive getting their throat slit?”

Her chirpy words went ignored, and for a second she thought this might be worse than complete isolation. Mr Slick wasn’t talking, and refused to even meet her eyes as he checked her restraints and then moved to pick something up from below the bed where she couldn’t see.

“I don’t know if the captain is on board and taking requests, but I normally fly economy and I gotta say, this is the weirdest first class service ever. Do you treat all your paying guests like this?”

This demon was boring. He wasn’t going to talk, which meant no clues to her predicament, and no possibility of much else either.

“Look, if you’re gonna kill me…” Her voice trailed off as the demon’s hands came into view, clutching a small vial of clear liquid and a needle that looked big enough to scare a horse. “Uh-uh, no way, you’re not -” He was drawing the fluid into the vial now, and Y/N’s heart started to race in fear. “We can talk about this - you want me quiet, I can be quiet -” Now he was tapping her arm, searching for a vein and - goddamn - “Please, don’t -”

The needle pierced her skin and Y/N hissed, although it was the least of any injuries she’d ever had. Whatever he was injecting into her was warm, spreading through her quickly and she saw darkness tinge the edges of her vision. “Please -” she repeated, clinging to her own consciousness. As her eyes fluttered shut, the demon smiled at her.

He had no tongue.

*****

The relative softness of the gurney was gone, but she was no longer tied down. Clutching her head with one hand, Y/N dragged herself upright, half-laying on the stone floor underneath her. Whatever warmth she’d left there evaporated quickly, and her senses instantly went on overload at her surroundings.

Beige and grey stone walls, dark with mold in places, and plants growing from others, were on every side of her. There were cracks, scrawled pieces of writing in English and other languages she both recognized and didn’t. And bloodstains. More than one, and not small.

Where the fuck was she?

Struggling to her feet in the filthy pencil skirt she’d been wearing for god-knows-how-long, Y/N attempted to brush herself down with her hands. It was futile, and she scowled when she noticed a tear in the side seam of the blouse. “Perfect,” she grumbled.

Calling out didn’t feel like a good idea, so she hung back on the spot for a moment, contemplating her options. The room she was in had a very low ceiling, not low enough for her to need to duck, but enough that Sam would probably struggle to brush his hair.

_ Sam… _

_ Dean… _

Oh, Dean was going to be pissed. If she made it out of here alive, there would be no ends of “I told you so”, which was Dean’s favorite pastime when he was right about something. He had made no secret of his dislike of her independence in the past, even when it had saved his life, Sam’s and hers, on several occasions.

The floor was a circle of stone where she’d been laying, in the center of what looked like partially congealed mud and sand. It was even, and lead out through a doorway, pitch black beyond, so she couldn’t see anything else in the dim torchlight that flooded the room. There was no telling what was out there, where she was… aside from knowing it was demons - and that one had his tongue cut out for some reason - Y/N was clueless to her situation.

And it was balls hot.

Scraping her messy hair back into a somewhat organized ponytail, Y/N stuck one foot out, testing the sand. She’d seen the Neverending Story one too many times as a kid, and that traumatic event had made her wary of anything sand-like. When the floor didn’t give way and suck her to a rapid death, she sighed in relief, reaching out to grab one of the torches from the wall.

The doorway loomed, and Y/N took her time stepping out. Outside, the hallway was long and thin, the ceiling much higher, but the walls were at least nine feet tall. On the right, the hall seemed to stretch for miles, but on the left, there was a flicker of torchlight, still a ways down, but enough to prove there was  _ something _ .

“Maybe it’s David Bowie,” she muttered to herself, shrugging as she took a wide step out into the hallway. “Indiana Jones? I suppose it depends if you prefer talking worms or Nazis.” 

After two minutes of slow walking, checking the walls and hoping to god there were no big saws about to come out of the walls, or arrows, or some shit like that, Y/N started to notice more markings on the stones that surrounded her. Some were in languages she could read, and she picked out several repetitions of the word “death”, “monster”, “beast” and “win”. 

“Must be a swell holiday destination,” she commented, despite her solitude. Talking felt normal, real, unlike this nightmare she was picking her way through friggin’  _ barefoot _ . “Why did they have to take my shoes? Weapons, I get, but shoes? I  _ hate _ sand.”

Something rumbled, echoing through the passage with enough force to shake the floor a little, and Y/N frowned in concern and fear. Either there’d been a little earthquake, or that was something  _ roaring _ .

“Okay, kidnappers, you’ve had your fun, I’m shitting my pants, can we go now?” Her words were murmured under her breath as she kept moving forward, wondering what was going to jump out and eat her. There were no other turns off of the hall, and when she finally reached the torch, Y/N found herself with another choice of left, or right. “Great,” she drawled, wishing more than anything that she had a weapon.

Stone scraping against stone sounded to her left, and she frowned, not entirely sure which way to go. Whatever this place was, it didn’t look all too hospitable, and without any way to defend herself, or find the way out…

Whatever had roared before, roared again, and that was enough to send her legs pumping, carrying her to the right. Halfway down, there was another choice; straight, left, or right. Hesitating, she allowed her gut instinct to control her movements, and she hurried down the left hand tunnel. If she kept going long enough in one direction, there had to be a way out.

Right now, she’d be happy for vending machine.

Everything was silent for a long while, and Y/N didn’t know how long she’d been walking. She was tired and aching, and thirsty, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before hunger set in. The torch in her hand was beginning to burn low, so she stubbed it out in the sand, taking a fresh one from the wall, and keeping the burnt stub for a makeshift weapon.

Another turn came up, straight or left, so she kept going straight. The pathway got darker, with less torches, and Y/N slowed her pace, unsure of her footing. When she knocked something, she jumped back, brandishing the club in front of her with a shaking hand.

It was a backpack.

Old looking, with a few holes that were alarmingly similar to claw marks, but it seemed to contain something by the way its sides were bulging. Y/N cocked her head to the side, and approached, tapping it with her big toe. “So it’s either bugs, a severed head or a portable transporter module.” She could almost hear Dean called her a nerd for that reference.

Cautiously, she placed her club on the floor and leaned the torch against the wall far enough so it wouldn’t set anything on fire if it fell, before untying the top of the rucksack. The contents made her frown deepen, and she reached in, pulling out an unopened bottle of water. Along with that, there was a bag of chips, some protein bars and a screwdriver, as well as a packet of matches and what looked like clothes.

“Huh, kiosk service,” she cracked, inspecting the items. All of them were in date, which put the idea in her head that either it had been planted, or the owner hadn’t been here too long ago. Neither idea filled her with joy, but she was thirsty, and hungry…

With a shrug, she opened the bottle, chugging half of it before saving the rest. One of the protein bars swiftly followed, and for a second after, she felt guilty that maybe she should have rationed it. The follow through on that thought was quickly interrupted, another roar shattering the eerie silence that held providence before.

“I’ll muse on it later,” she whispered to herself, tightening the bag and slinging it over her shoulder, grabbing her torch and her club. Picking up the pace along the hallway, she took another left, a right and then continued straight, still no less clued in on her situation or location.

The pencil skirt was becoming very uncomfortable, and the blouse was filthy dirty, the rip in the seam getting worse and worse. There had been no roars for a while, so Y/N stopped, hanging the torch on an empty hook, and rooting in the bag for the clothes she’d seen.

They were blissfully the right size, a pair of cargo pants and a cardigan, which leaned her further towards the “planted theory”. Gift horse and all, she swiftly discarded her skirt, replacing it with the pants. It was too warm for the cardigan, which had no fastenings, so she unbuttoned her shirt and tied it in a knot, feeling a little exposed, even with no one else around.

“If this was anyone’s intention, I hope it’s not on camera,” she growled, shoving the cardigan into the bag, along with the remains of the skirt. “And they could have put some fucking shoes in there.” Before securing the items away, she paused, fishing out the screwdriver and substituting the club for the sharper tool.

She slung the bag over her shoulder again and carried on.


	3. Chapter 3

No windows, no rooms, nothing but walls and walls and walls. She had no idea what the time was, or what day it was, and that was what bugged her the most. Y/N liked answers, and being stuck with a bunch of infuriating question was making her… grumpy.

Another left and straight on, and she stopped, frowning. On the wall, there was a stick figure she remembered seeing before. And the same cryptic scratches. And…

Fuck, she was going in circles.

With a growl of frustration, Y/N ran taking whatever turn she fancied, before she skidded to a halt in the dirt and sand, panting heavily. She stood straight, whirling around and slamming her palm flat against the stone wall, screaming at it as if that might fix things.

As she stood there, panting and close to tears, a quiet voice caught her attention. “Hello?” it squeaked, and Y/N turned, frowning at the darkness ahead of her, before repeating the greeting.

The figure that emerged was a woman, around her own age, and the relief was evident on her face. She was dressed in a summer dress, but she had shoes on, and for a second, Y/N contemplated knocking her out and stealing them, before she remembered she was a good guy.

“Are you…” the woman started, stuttering in a foreign tone, and hovering a few feet from her, “are you one of them?”

“One of who?” Y/N asked, shaking her head.

The woman lowered her head and her voice, like someone might be listening. “The ones with the black eyes.”

“No,” Y/N replied, holding out a hand. “Do you know where we are?”

“The Labyrinth,” the woman informed her, eyeing her hand suspiciously. “They tried to kill me, to offer me as a sacrifice.”

“For what?” The hunter couldn’t resist enquiring, needing to know what she was facing.

“You do not know of The Labyrinth?”

Y/N paused, scrambling for her Ancient Greek history, what little she’d learned in school. “Er, yeah, it was built for a big bull thing, right?”

“The Minotaur,” the woman nodded, shivering. “He is born of both man and beast, and his appetite for blood is never sated. This is the  fóros; the tribute.” Y/N stared, unsure what she meant exactly, when the woman moved suddenly and made her jump. “We must leave; there are things almost worse than the Beast in this place.”

“Where did you come from?” Y/N demanded, unsure if she could trust this woman, despite how frail she looked. “How did you get in here?”

“This is my punishment,” she said quietly, but it was clear she was anxious to leave. “This is where they bring their enemies to die. If you survive, you win your freedom, but no one ever survives.” There was a smile on her face as she pressed a hand to her chest. “I am Maria. The governor of my town is the keeper of The Labyrinth.”

“Your town?”

“Temenos.” Y/N blinked, not knowing where the hell that was. Maybe New Mexico? That would explain the heat. Maria rose her eyebrows, understanding that the location wasn’t familiar to the other woman. “Crete.”

The hunter’s jaw dropped and she took a step back, trying to register the information. “Crete? I’m in the friggin’ Mediterranean?” The knowledge had her body sagging against the wall, her eyes on the floor when she realized exactly what that meant. The plane, the lost time, the kidnapping - and now, she was thousands of miles away from the only people who knew she was missing, without a hope in hell of being rescued.

“Miss?” Maria leaned into her, resting a hand on her shoulder, and Y/N snapped out of it, determination taking over.

“Tell me everything you know about this place.”

*****

Maria had been sheltering in a crevice - you could have called it a room, but it wasn’t big enough. There was enough space for both women to sit down on the rocky floor, with a small fire burning in between them. It wasn’t a great source of heat, but it looked like Maria had been cooking small rodents she’d found on the dying embers.

“How long have you been here?” Y/N asked, crouching down, keeping her defences up. 

“I don’t know,” Maria replied. She’d already told the hunter everything she knew; the prison they were in was  _ The _ Labyrinth, built by the Minoans to contain the ferocious, immortal creature known as the Minotaur. But that wasn’t the only thing that lurked in the darkness - Maria knew of vampires, werewolves, skinwalkers, ghouls and other things that only wanted to eat you before the Minotaur ate them. And apparently, the maze was used as a means of disposing of enemies… or for sport.

“This game,” Y/N started, not making eye contact. “It’s once a year?”

“Yes. The governor uses The Labyrinth to dispose of enemies - there is only one way in and out for those imprisoned, and no one has ever escaped. Especially not during the tribute. There is a price on all our heads - do you know who took you?”

Y/N sighed, lifting her shoulders. “I only knew that they were demons. I don’t -”

An ear-splitting screen split her words, and both women looked sharply at the opening to their hiding spot. Maria quickly stamped the fire out, huddling down at the sound of something approaching with heavy footsteps in the sand. Y/N was on the offense instantly, brandishing her makeshift weapon in front of her again. 

The scream echoed off the walls again, before the sound of a scuffle broke out, and definitively male grunts replaced the screeching before squelchy, bloody sounds took over. Maria was trembling against the wall, eyes wide and full of fright.

“She’s gotta be around here somewhere,” a voice snarled, and Y/N’s heart jumped in relief, while her mind was contemplating the impossible. That voice was one she knew, and one that she’d never been so grateful to hear. Before Maria could stop her, she was up and crawling out of the space, ignoring the other woman’s panicked cry. Her eyes landed on a blissful sight - both Winchesters, huge in the narrow corridor, the dead body of what looked like a banshee at their feet.

“Dean?”

They turned, the confusion on their faces at the sound of her voice fading instantly to relief and joy. Sam came forward first, enveloping her in his huge arms, a choked sob in his throat. “You’re here,” he muttered and Y/N laughed, nodding and clinging to him. When he pulled away, there was barely a second of time before the only-slightly smaller form of Dean Winchester was almost knocking her off her feet, his arms the only thing saving her from being on her back.

His arms locked tightly around her, almost more than she could bear. One hand was fisted in her filthy hair, and his mouth was pressed into her neck. Y/N slid her arms around him, holding him close, pressing a soft kiss to the spot below his nose. Dean sniffled, and grumbled something she couldn’t hear.

“I’m here,” she whispered, nuzzling into him in a way she never allowed herself before. “I can’t believe… did the demons get you too?”

“We don’t know,” Sam admitted, watching as Dean drew back, not letting go of his hold on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “We were driving to Boston and a semi ran us off the road. When we woke up, we were being thrown in this place.”

Y/N dragged her eyes away from Dean. “We’re in The Labyrinth. Like, Minotaur, Greek myth - we’re in friggin’ Crete.”

This was obviously new information as Sam’s eyes went wider if possible, and Dean growled low in his throat. “How do you know all this? We’ve only seen demons and wraiths - Dean thought he saw a shifter…”

“This woman, I only found her a short time ago. Maria?” Y/N turned, calling her new friend out, but she didn’t reply. She frowned, moving closer to the hiding place, searching the darkness for the other woman. “She was right here -”

“‘Bout yay high,” Sam started, raising his hand to just below his chest. “Black hair, Greek?” Y/N nodded, frowning deeper.

“Yeah, she was -”

A roar preceded Maria’s exit from the crevice by only a second, and Y/N yelled in surprise, not moving back far enough to prevent the black eyed woman from pinning her instantly. Human teeth snapped near her eyes, while her fingers scrambled for purchase, trying to cause injury by any means she could. Y/N had to use both hands to keep her at bay, her weapon inches away and completely out of her reach.

The weight was lifted, and Maria’s entire body jerked as Dean tackled her into a wall, knocking her clean out with a blow to the head that left a blood splatter on the stone. The meatsuit dropped down in a heap on the floor, and Y/N barely acknowledged Sam’s hands helping her up.

Before she could air the question on her lips, Sam was tipping holy water over her hand, while Dean was brandishing the silver screwdriver. “Touch it,” he ordered, and Y/N obeyed instantly, knowing the drill. In turn, Sam and Dean both splashed themselves and touched the screwdriver, ruling out the potential two creatures that could masquerade as anyone.

“She’s a demon?” Y/N whispered, moving closer to the unconscious creature. “I had no idea.”

“She tried to kill us just after we woke up. We had nothing on us, but Sam found a bag with some basic supplies. Holy water. And this…” Dean held up the screwdriver, “you dropped.” He handed it back to her, and Y/N took it, nodding.

“I found supplies,” she mumbled. “She told me where we were. What if she was lying?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Dean smirked. “Check her for injuries. I wanna know if she’s riding a corpse, or if we’ve got a rescue on our hands.”

*****

“It’s a tribute?” Sam clarified, and Y/N nodded, perched on the edge of the rock with a tense posture. She couldn’t relax, not knowing she’d been in close quarters with a demon, and wondering what on earth her motive was. “And we’re in Greece. They must have flown us over.”

“I woke up on the plane,” she replied, chewing the inside of her mouth as she thought. “Some guy knocked me out… but I didn’t see anyone else.”

Sam hummed as Dean finished securing the demon to a torch bracket on the wall. The skirt Y/N had ripped off had come in handy, working as a rope for the time being. Maria was still unconscious, but as Sam held out the bottle of holy water for his brother to take, Y/N knew that she was about to be rudely awakened.

The water splashed against the woman and the wall, and she spluttered, coughing before she opened her eyes. For a second, they were normal, and then the inky black seeped in. A cruel smile twisted her lips, and Y/N shuddered at the evil expression. “Busted,” Maria drawled, as Sam blocked her view. “Guess I should have killed you before they turned up.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Sam answered her, holding up the screwdriver. “You wanna tell us what’s going on here?”

“Already told her,” the demon replied. “And a screwdriver can’t kill me.”

“No, but it can hurt.”

She scoffed at that, laughing under her breath. “Do your worst.” Sam’s eyes blazed and he thrust his arm forward, burying the pointed weapon in the flesh of the meatsuit’s arm, right where the main artery was. Blood burst from the wound, and she screamed in agony. Sam twisted, and pulled the screwdriver free, watching the blood flow steadily down her arm to stain the summer dress and pool on the floor.

“Wait!” Y/N yelled, holding out a hand, and Sam frowned as he turned, watching her waltz past him. “I don’t have shoes. She’s dead, I want her shoes before they’re covered in blood.” The demon swore and attempted to kick out as Y/N dropped to her knees, tugging the sneakers from her feet. “Thanks!”

The demon was swearing now, cursing her out, and Y/N ignored her as she pulled the trainers onto her sore and sandy feet. “Fucking bitch!”

“Shut up,” Sam threatened, holding the point of the screwdriver to the hollow of her throat. “You’re going back to Hell either way.”

“I already told her,” the demon spat, struggling as much as her bonds would allow. “You’re all fucking dead anyway - no one gets out of this place.”

“Not even you?” he questioned, and the demon smiled, fixing her black eyes on his.

“I’m here to win.”

Dean scowled, before starting to chant the exorcism that he knew better than his own name, and the demon screamed and schrieked, thrashing harder when Sam stood back. But the hunter didn’t stop, and Y/N stood back as black smoke poured from the dead woman’s mouth, and the body went limp. “Well, you lose,” Dean grunted, checking over the body. “She’s got nothing.”

“So,” Y/N started, “one dead demon, no more supplies, we’re in Crete and we’re trapped in a mythical Labyrinth, part of a game where we could possibly get out alive, but we’re more likely to face a gruesome death?” Both Winchesters nodded, not looking away from the dead woman tied to the wall. Y/N sighed; her chances had been slim to start, and they only marginally improved with the appearance of the other hunters. “Ideas?”

When their eyes met hers with nothing but hopelessness, she couldn’t help but think that maybe they hadn’t improved at all.


	4. Chapter 4

All three of them were exhausted. Hours of endless turns and corners, dead ends and empty rooms had left them with slumped shoulders and dull eyes. Y/N was almost falling asleep on her feet, when Sam pointed to a doorway and turned back to look at his brother and friend.

“We should get some rest. You two go sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

Y/N didn’t have the strength to argue, and Dean grunted, before following her into the small room. It was empty, like the dozen or so they’d already explored, and Dean quickly started to settle down on the dirt, grimacing as he caught injuries and bruises. She stood for a moment, inspecting her surroundings, before dropping her backpack onto the floor and trying to make some sort of bed with the cardigan still inside it.

Sam was propped against the wall by the door, armed with the screwdriver and the torch. He kept his eyes on the entryway, while Y/N and Dean got themselves comfortable. “I’ll take over in an hour, Sammy,” Dean yawned, bending his elbow to use his arm as a pillow. It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever slept in, that was for sure. His eyes were trained on Y/N as she fussed with the backpack, tossing and turning to seek out a suitable position. “Y/N… you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she grunted, scowling at her bedding. “Just really missing those lumpy motel mattresses right now.” Dean chuckled, watching her shuffle for a few minutes more, before she finally settled down. As she shut her eyes, her bottom lip protruded in a sweet little pout, and Dean’s gaze lingered there, drinking in the sight of her. He’d been scared, terrified even, that he’d never see her face again, but here she was.

Even if it was the most fucked up situation they’d found themselves in.

“G’night,” he muttered, letting his own eyes fall shut. Y/N repeated the words back to him, and Dean allowed himself to fall into slumber.

The hour passed quickly, and when Dean opened his eyes again, Y/N was gone. The spot she’d been lying in held only the bag and the cardigan, and panic seized his heart like a vice. He shot upright, casting his eyes around the room, and found her, curled up against his brother, her head against the younger man’s chest, and his arm slung around her shoulders.

Panic twisted in jealousy, and his nostrils flared. Sam was still awake, one hand absently stroking her arm, his eyes still pinpointed on the doorway. He looked exhausted, but all Dean could think about was the fact that Y/N had sought comfort from a source that wasn’t him.

Sam noticed his brother’s movement and glanced over, giving him a little smile. When he saw the thin line of Dean’s mouth, and the gleam in his eye, his grin faltered, and he frowned. Y/N stirred in his lap, and he blinked, realizing what his brother thought. “She couldn’t get comfortable and she didn’t want to wake you,” he explained, holding his free hand up in surrender. “Dean, you know I wouldn’t muscle in on your girl like that.”

Embarrassment took jealousy’s spot, and Dean got to his feet, striding past Sam and the sleeping woman with a scowl on his face. “She’s not m’girl,” he snapped under his breath, disappearing just out of sight to relieve himself.

When he came back, Sam was starting to get up, almost disturbing Y/N from her sleep. She yawned and stretched, and Dean knew that she needed more rest. “Here, baby girl,” he directed, slipping into Sam’s place and gesturing to his own lap. She smiled sleepily, and curled up back where she’d been, drifting off to sleep once more.

“Totally not your girl,” Sam teased, stepping out of the doorway to sort out his own full bladder. Dean stuck his tongue out at him, before his attention shifted back to the woman in his lap. He reached out with shaking fingers, pushing her hair back out of her face, tucking it behind her ears.

“I’d be your girl if you wanted,” she breathed, and Dean froze, staring at her and wondering if he’d imagined it. When her lips twitched and her breathing evened out, he knew that she was definitely asleep again, he relaxed. Had she really said that? That she’d be his girl?

Dean didn’t imagine he’d ever be that lucky.

Sam returned, opening the backpacks to figure out their rations. When Y/N was awake, they had to formulate a plan and find their way out of the maze and back to America. If the demon wasn’t lying, that is.

“Sammy, get some sleep,” Dean muttered, watching his brother do the technical brainy thing, instead of seeking his own rest. “We’ll sort it out when you’ve had at least an hour or two of rest.”

The younger man huffed, before realizing Dean was probably right. Picking a spot, near the wall, he settled down, falling asleep easily once he allowed himself to. Dean kept his eyes on him, feeling the warm of Y/N’s cheek against his leg.

An hour passed, and Dean was bored. Trying to read the chicken scratch on the walls was exhausting, and nothing was happening outside. If you could call it outside. The ceiling of the labyrinth wasn’t exactly visible, but it didn’t feel like outside air. It was hot and stifling, to the point that he’d wrapped his shirt around his waist only a few moments after getting there. Y/N had obviously felt the humidity in the air too, as she was wearing a blouse tied up to underneath her breasts and Dean had not stared at her curves once.

Well, maybe once.

Whatever this place was, Dean knew there had to be a way out. Otherwise, how did they get in there in the first place?

Something rumbled down the corridor, and Dean immediately went on alert. Black smoke crept along the walls, and he roused Y/N quickly, before calling out to Sam, who was up in an instant. Gesturing to outside the door, all three of them took a spot, waiting for whatever it was to appear.

Blackness billowed down the hall, snuffing out all the torches, before filling the room. Dean called out, coughing, reaching for anything, but as quickly as it started, it was over, and the three hunters looked at each other in confusion. “What was that?”

“Looked like demon smoke,” Sam pointed out. “But… we’re all protected right?” He glanced down, tugging his shirt downwards to find his tattoo perfectly intact. Dean did the same, and Y/N turned to show them her complete mark on her shoulder. “So what did it want?”

“Maybe it wanted to possess us and didn’t know we were protected?” Y/N supplied, and both men shrugged. None of them had any idea, but now the demon smoke knew where they were, it was time to move on. “I’m so hungry.”

“Me too,” Dean lamented, and Sam held out a protein bar. “Can we spare this?”

Sam nodded, snapping the bar into three. “We’re gonna have to ration unless we can find any more conveniently full rucksacks.”

“Keep an eye out,” Y/N sighed, taking her third of the meager meal. Still chewing, the three hunters piled out of the room, looking either way before setting off in the direction they’d been heading hours before.

Silence was the topic of conversation; there wasn’t much to say. Occasionally, Sam would stop, tracing his fingers over marks in the walls, but it didn’t seem to be producing any new information. Dean was visibly still tired and hungry, and Y/N kept close to him, bumping his shoulder every so often, and tracing her knuckles across the backs of his. He didn’t show any sign of the movements, but she hoped it was giving him something, even if she felt at a loss herself.

Sam stopped about ninety minutes and a thousand turns later, just as a loud roar echoed through the hallways of the maze. Y/N’s chest tightened, fear of whatever was out there getting the better of her, and she reached out, finding Dean’s hand and lacing her fingers through his. He squeezed gently, not saying a word.

“The Minotaur?” Sam asked, not looking back at them.

“Could be,” Dean replied. “But whatever it is… it’s further away than it was before. Maybe it’s caught something else’s scent.”

“Maybe,” Sam agreed, keeping his eyes on the hallway ahead. “We don’t know who or what else is in here.” He started to move again, with Dean and Y/N following behind. She hadn’t let go of Dean’s hand, and he wasn’t about to drop hers, but Sam either didn’t notice or didn’t comment. It was only when the hallway widened, and split off into six paths, that she relinquished her hold on him. “What the hell…”

Y/N was up against the columns, trying to read the ancient wording scratched into the stone. Greek was not a language she knew well - anything beyond ordering at the Grecian restaurant in Lebanon was a challenge. She’d take Latin over any of this. “Sam?”

“I don’t know a lot of Greek,” he confessed, as Dean scowled at the walls.

“So how do we pick a direction?” Dean asked. “We could end up just going round in circles.”

“Well, we’re not splitting up,” Sam insisted, and Dean nodded emphatically. “But maybe we could track our movements?” The clueless look he received prompted his explanation and he gestured to the bags. “We’ve gotta have something to track where we’ve been, right? Like, the screwdriver. Or the matches. Do we have a pen?”

“Sorry, left my stationary kit in the Impala,” Dean grumbled, and Y/N suddenly realized that he had no idea what had happened to his car. The bunker might be where they lived, but Baby was his home, through and through. For all they knew, he might never see her again. “So, what, you’re saying we Hansel and Gretel this bitch?”

“Exactly.”

“Use the screwdriver,” Y/N suggested, pointing at the weapon Dean still held. “Carve something into the walls?”

Sam shrugged, looking around. “Which way do we try first?” None of them replied, and Dean held out his empty hand towards his brother, who rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Rock, paper, scissors, and the winner picks the road.”

A loud screech interrupted the discussion, and all three hunters froze, unsure of the direction the noise had come from. When it sounded again, closer, Dean gripped the screwdriver tightly, and Y/N held up her makeshift club, prepared to face whatever it was.

The furthest path from them lit up, and a figure appeared in the hallway, approaching fast. The scream sounded again, and Y/N jumped back as whatever it was ran past, before flickering and exploding into flames, leaving nothing behind but darkness and a chill in the air. She glanced at Sam and Dean, who stared in confusion.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean growled, moving closer to the now empty pathway, peering down it and seeing nothing. 

“A death omen?” Sam offered, inspecting the spot where the figure had burst into flame. There was no debris, no body; no explanation. “It’s possible. If a lot of people have died here…”

“So now we’ve gotta contend with spontaneous combustion?” the elder brother spat, glaring at his brother, who simply shook his head in irritation. “Or is there a fire-breathing monster in here -” There was a crash, and a deep roar that echoed through the halls, and Dean paled visibly. “I’m gonna say fire-breathing monster, and suggest that path,” he said quickly, pointing at the other side of the junction, to the path furthest from the one that had lit up. “Any questions?”

Sam and Y/N both shook their heads, and they moved quickly from the area they were stood in. Dean gripped the screwdriver, driving it into the wall of the path they were taking, making a quick, recognisable mark so they knew where they’d been. None of them spoke as they hurried down the hall, finding nothing but more torches for the next few minutes.

“There’s a breeze,” Sam commented, taking the lead, holding his torch in front of himself with his long arm, frowning as he came up to a dead end. “You feel that right, Y/N?”

She nodded, approaching the solid wall and placing her hand against it. “This wall is warm,” she muttered, tracing over the scratches and marks on it. “But there’s no way through.”

The deep roar they’d heard before echoed off of the walls again, and Dean turned, just in time to see fire erupted down the hallway. Sam dropped down, dragging Y/N with him, and the flames burst over their heads. When it was gone, they looked up, unsure what to make of the creature in front of them.

It’s body was encased in scales, with huge leathery wings sprouting from it’s back. The face was a mass of scales and teeth, with huge yellow eyes focused on them, liquid fire dripping from it’s maw. It didn’t look like it should fit in the hallway, with the ends of each wing dragging along the stone walls, and the massive talons at the end of it’s scaly feet digging into the sand underneath.

“Sam!” Dean called, scrambling backwards. “Any ideas?”

The younger Winchester shook his head frantically, grabbing at Y/N to try and shield her as the monster inhaled again, obviously ready to scorch them all alive. Y/N closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable, but it never came.

Someone yelled loudly, before something slammed into the back of the creatures neck, slicing through the hide easily and decapitating it. Fire spilled from the open throat, coating the sandy floor before the monster dropped like a stone.

Dean blinked, looking up, seeing a figure standing over the creature, breathing heavily, a sword in one hand, and a shield in the other. At first glance, he thought it was a woman, but when they turned, it became clear that despite the long flowing golden locks and skimpy outfit, this guy was all… guy.

“You are unharmed?” the man asked, offering his hand to Dean, who eyed it warily. “I am friend, not foe,” he explained, and Dean took his help, grunting as he got to his feet.

“We’re unharmed,” Sam replied, standing as the man moved over to Y/N and helped her up. He smiled brilliantly at her, and she blushed, making Dean glower in annoyance. “Who are you?”

“And what was that thing?” Dean demanded rudely.

The man chuckled, hoisting his shield onto his back and sheathing his sword. He brushed down the tunic he was wearing, before shaking his head. “That, my friend, was a Chimera. And you are welcome.” He smiled brightly, offering his hand to Sam in greeting. “My name is Theseus. And this is the great Labyrinth of Knossos.”

Y/N frowned, glancing at her companions. “The demon wasn’t lying. We are in Crete.”

Theseus nodded, sighing heavily. “I am afraid so. You are part of the tribute, are you not? They don’t tell me much.”

“Tell you much? You know about this crap?” Dean asked, his tone no less demanding than it had been before. He didn’t like this guy, and didn’t like the way he was staring at Y/N like a piece of meat. “You better start talking, pal.”

Theseus laughed under his breath, gesturing down the hallway past the dead Chimera. “I will tell you everything you need to know and more,” he insisted, “but please, let me take you somewhere safe. I have food, and water, and medicines if you require.”

“You live here?” Sam asked.

“Indeed,” Theseus replied, puffing his chest out a little, making Dean dislike him even more. “I am the keeper of the Labyrinth. And I can show you the way out.”


	5. Chapter 5

The safe place that Theseus took them to, was apparently a home of sorts. He explained on the way that the Labyrinth was vast, miles from end to end, and there were places he had yet to venture. Time passed incredibly slowly there, like a pocket dimension, so there was a chance that only a day had passed outside, but a week had gone by for them.

He’d been there for thousands of years, and that thought alone made Y/N feel bad for the guy. All that time alone, with monsters, nothing but stone and sand…

But, he surprised her. His home was full of comforts - bedding, plants, a freshwater source. Apparently, when you had a millennia on your hands, you figured shit out. Theseus was more than happy to provide for them as his guests, and Y/N and Sam both graciously accepted the brief reprieve from the hell they were trapped in.

Dean, on the other hand, did not like him.

He struck the hunter as slimy, greasy, sneaky; basically all the bad words. And he hated the way that the guy was looking at Y/N, his eyes dipping down where her tied shirt accentuated her breasts. He kept  _ touching  _ her - a hand to the elbow, the small of the back - and she wasn’t his to touch.

Granted, she wasn’t Dean’s either but fuck, he didn’t care about minor details. Either Theseus kept his exotic Grecian hands off of her, or Dean was going to cut them off.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, catching his eye with a coy little smile. Dean blinked and smiled back automatically. “You kinda spaced out there.”

“I’m good. Just tired,” he brushed her off, pulling a face like it was nothing.

“Then rest, my friend,” Theseus offered, gesturing to the piles of blankets and furs on the floor. “You are safe here.”

The last thing Dean wanted to do was let his guard down while this slimeball was dribbling all over Y/N. He shook his head, smiling politely, imagining how good it would be to knock his perfect white fucking teeth down his throat. “That’s real nice of you, but I’ve been worse.” Knee to the balls, punch to the jaw, Mr. Greek is down for the count.

Theseus stared at him with a peculiar expression, before shaking it off and turning his attention back to Y/N. “Are you hungry, my dear?” Dean glowered, wishing he could at least hit him once. “I cannot imagine you have found much to eat out there.”

Her cheeks were reddening and Dean huffed noisily, his curiosity mixing with his jealousy to prompt his questions. “How do you have all this stuff anyways?” he asked, gesturing to the homey little cavern. “I didn’t see a Walmart on the way in.”

The Greek peered at him; his expression was a pleasant smile, but Dean could see the thought process. If he wanted to, this man could crush him like a bug, and the hunter knew not to trust anyone with that sort of power. 

Not that Dean made a habit of trusting people.

“Dean,” Y/N scolded, frowning at him. “Sorry, he’s grumpy when he’s hungry. We’d love some food.” Ugh, she was  _ flirting _ with him. Dean tasted bile in his throat and he scowled when she shot him a stern look.

“The story of my existence in this place is a long one, Dean,” Theseus started, moving towards what could only be described as a kitchenette. “And no, we do not have a Walmart,” he added, and Y/N tittered in a way Dean had never heard. “As I said before, I am the Keeper of the Labyrinth. I cannot leave, for I am bound to this place.” He looked up briefly, before offering a cup of water to Y/N, which she took with a wide smile on her face. “And it is my duty to try and save as many as I can that are sent for tribute.”

“How often does this tribute happen?” Sam asked, accepting the water that Theseus offered him.

“Every year,” the Greek explained.

“And how many have you saved?” Dean barked, earning himself another filthy look from Y/N.

Theseus sighed, his eyes dropping down. “Three.”

“In a thousand years?!” Dean’s eyes bugged and he gestured to his brother; the man was clearly evil.

“This place is filled with monsters and creatures the like of which you have never seen,” Theseus explained gently, like he was talking to a child. “And I can only show you the way to the centre of the Labyrinth.”

“You said you could get us out,” Sam said, keeping his tone neutral and not accusing.

“I said I could show you the way. Unfortunately, my duty does not extend to the Minotaur.” Theseus shook his head. “I cannot best the creature - no one has ever managed to kill it.” He glanced at Y/N sadly, wide eyes making her face crumble in sympathy. “Alas, I have watched too many young warriors go to their death.”

Dean shook his head, pacing towards the door, dodging Sam’s arm. “We may as well make our own way.” Sam looked over at Theseus apologetically, before following his brother out of the door.

Picking up a piece of fruit, Theseus drew closer to Y/N, offering the pear to her. She took it, smiling at him, biting into it with a moan of pleasure. Some juice dribbled down her chin, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “You are intriguing,” he murmured, offering her the drip from his thumb. Eagerly, she sucked the digit between her lips, keeping her eyes on his. “Good girl,” he purred. “I can see why Berith offered you as payment.” Y/N nodded, completely under his spell. “Now to rid ourselves of your companions.”

He stepped back, and Y/N wobbled like she’d been caught by a strong wind. “Do you know how we got in here?” she asked, giving no indication she’d heard anything he had said. “If there’s only one way out -”

“The Labyrinth is connected to the surface by a series of portals, but they can only be used one way. Much like the portal from Purgatory, that I know Dean is familiar with.”

“How are you familiar with it?” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow, before biting into the peach again.

“I am not without contact down here,” Theseus explained. “But by the nature of my entrapment, I can only assist those who pass through.”

“Did you see a girl named Maria?” she asked, placing one hand on her hip, and Theseus smiled, fixing her with a look that made her relax instantly. “I met her and she turned out to be a demon. I thought she might have something to do with this.”

Theseus shook his head, his long golden mane draping over his shoulders. “No, I am afraid not. Come now, you must be weary. Rest a while? I am sure your friends will return soon.”

*****

Dean threw his fist against a wall, grunting in pain when his knuckles came away bloodied. “Dean,” Sam snapped, storming up behind him, one arm flung backwards towards the dwelling. “What the hell was that?”

“He can’t help us, Sam. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust him because he’s been honest, or because he’s flirting with Y/N?”

Dean scowled, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “Both,” he returned, stroking his opposing thumb over his damaged skin. “He’s a creep.”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the same time. “Dean, you gotta say something to her. Tell her. You can’t expect her to wait around forever.”

“Here? In a friggin’ horror maze from Greek hell?”

“Why not?”

“Because she’ll think I’m only saying it because we might die!”

Sam made a scoffing noise, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re unbelievable. How long have we known her? And you’re gonna make excuse after excuse because you’re afraid of what being with her means.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, focusing them on Sam for the first time. “And what am I afraid of Sam? Commitment? Settling down? Becoming old marrieds?”

“Being with her means being happy, Dean, and you don’t think you deserve that.”

The younger man’s worded impacted like an asteroid, and Dean fell silent. He didn’t have an argument to counter his brother’s words, because he knew they were true. His whole life, he’d strived for happiness, for  _ something _ that wasn’t blood or death or destruction. But whenever he found a slice of peace, a moment where he didn’t think about something lurking out there to kill him… inevitably, someone he loved got hurt.

“Dean, just tell her,” Sam urged, his voice softening.

For a few seconds, Dean didn’t reply and Sam thought he might actually do what he’d been pressing him to do since he’d realized. “When we get out of here.” The announcement made Sam’s shoulders droop, but Dean was already stomping back to the house. The younger Winchester followed, knowing that nothing would happen after they escaped either.

If they escaped…

“And you have been with them since?” Theseus was saying, leaning back against the wall when they returned. Y/N was propped on the furs and blankets, eating a piece of fruit, and she smiled when Dean walked in first. “Interesting,” the Greek finished, trailing off as he realized they were not alone. “Ah, Dean, Sam. I have prepared some food.”

“You’re gonna take us to the way out,” Dean said, ignoring the offer.

Sam elbowed him out of the way, shooting him a glare, before smiling at their host. “After we’ve eaten. Thank you,” he added, and Theseus nodded, handing over two wooden plates of food. Y/N didn’t move when he made to sit next to her, crowding in on her space in a way that made Dean’s skin crawl.

“Dean,” Sam growled, nudging him with the plate. Dean looked down at it, not knowing what most of the foods were, and his craving for a burger grew worse. “Don’t be rude.”

Dean took the plate, sitting himself down and placing it in front of him, but he didn’t make a move to eat it. Sam huffed, sitting beside him, and tasting whatever the gelatinous pink stuff was.

“This is wonderful,” Sam praised through his chewing, and Y/N laughed.

“He makes everything himself here. There are wild animals that he hunts, and he’s found a place where plants grow. Isn’t it amazing?” She sounded so caught up in it, like it was a romance and she hadn’t been fighting for her life a few hours ago. Anyone would have thought she was on holiday, but Dean saw right through it.

In the meantime, he could feel Theseus’ gaze bearing down on him, waiting for him to do something. Beside him, Sam chomped on a piece of bread, nodding all the while. “Pretty awesome. Don’t you think, Dean?”

Dean hummed a non-committal response, looking at the food again. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to put any of it in his mouth. He didn’t trust the guy, and he didn’t understand why Y/N and Sam were both so… friendly. It didn’t add up to him, and he wasn’t about to take chances on food he couldn’t even pronounce.

“Are you sure you do not want to rest a while, Sam? You look tired,” Theseus said, and Sam looked up, a yawn suddenly overtaking his face. Bags were prominent under his eyes, and Dean frowned - Sam hadn’t looked so exhausted before.

“We can carry on,” Sam replied, shaking his head to try and clear the sleepiness. Dean’s eyes snapped to Y/N, who was almost dozing on the Greek’s shoulder. “I’ll be -” he yawned again, “okay.”

“Y/N could use some proper rest,” Theseus pressed. “Dean, it would be kinder if you allowed them -”

There was a thud, and Dean turned, seeing Sam with his head against the wall, mouth slack and eyes shut as he started to snore softly. Y/N was out cold too, and Dean went on the offensive, kicking away the food. Theseus simply watched as the hunter approached, wielding his screwdriver.

“Dean, I really do not want to have to hurt her,” the man said, keeping his voice even as he stared up at the point of the tool. “It would have been so much simpler if you would have just eaten.”

“Never did trust all that healthy crap,” Dean spat, keeping his arm steady. “Who the hell are you?”

“I have not lied to you,” Theseus insisted, climbing to his feet. “I guide those in the Labyrinth to the way out.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, bull-something, I suppose,” he joked, chuckling a little, his tone turning dark. “You can’t hurt me, boy.” The screwdriver disappeared from Dean’s grasp, and he didn’t have a second to react before Theseus had him against the wall, one hand around his throat as the other drew his sword free. “You are a mere hiccup in my day.”

“What do you want?” Dean rasped, kicking his legs out and gaining no purchase against his adversary.

“I wanted her,” Theseus jerked his head backwards, a leer on his face that made him look cruel and twisted. “A demon that she’s been hunting for her entire adult life, owed a debt to me. She was a constant thorn in his side. He offered her as payment, if he delivered her to me.”

“Berith.” The hunter’s choked response heralded a nod from his captor.

“Indeed. I am the Labyrinth keeper, in that I keep it, and utilize it for my own purposes.”

Dean laughed then, despite the fact that he could feel blood vessels bursting in his eyes. Theseus scowled. “So you’re an immortal douchebag who can’t get a date?” The comment earned him what he’d wanted - Theseus threw him to the floor, hard enough to break a rib, and Dean gasped, instantly planning for his escape.

“You and your brother will not survive this!” Theseus threatened, looming over the downed man. “The Men Of Letters paid handsomely to dispose of you in this manner, and I will not renege on a signed contract!” Dean’s eyes went wide, and he growled under his breath - this was all to do with them.

“So us being here together - just a mistake?”

Theseus glowered, reaching down for him. “One I am about to rectify,” he snapped, grabbing for Dean’s jacket. As his fingers clasped the fabric, Dean surged upward, connecting his forehead with the other man’s perfect-fucking-jawline, feeling the crunch of bone and teeth, and the split of his skin. Blood ran down into his eyes, but it didn’t stop him getting to his feet as Theseus pulled away clutching his bloodied face.

“Huh. Immortal, not impervious. Good to know.”

The other man was furious, wiping blood from his face and bearing his teeth. “You cannot escape the Labyrinth by any other means than the center, hunter. Which means sooner or later, I get my prize and you die.”

The walls began to shake, and Dean stumbled back, clinging to the stone behind him as a sound like thunder filled the air. Black smoke poured through the doorway, and Dean dropped, panicking, unable to see a thing.

When the air cleared, a rotten corpse lay on the floor, vaguely looking like Theseus, but obviously dead for some time. Y/N was strewn across the sand a few feet away, and Sam was against the wall. Both of them stirred at the same time, and Dean checked Sam over before rushing to Y/N’s side.

“You okay?” he asked, aware that she’d been alone with their “host” and concerned he’d done something to her.

“What happened?”

Dean sighed at her question. “Theseus isn't who we thought.” He turned his gaze to Sam. “I told you I had a bad feeling about him.” The younger man scowled, rubbing the back of his head. “He drugged you both, and then smoked outta here. Think he rode his meatsuit pretty hard,” he added, gesturing to the corpse on the floor behind him.

Y/N gaped, shaking all over, and Dean brought her in closer, checking her over. He heard Sam get up and move to the corpse, searching for anything of use. “Sweetheart, you okay?” he asked again, cupping her cheeks and forcing her eyes to his. “You were alone with him. Did he do anything?”

She stared, a frown pushing the space between her eyebrows into a crease, and Dean’s concern grew. “He was… so charming. Sweet. I… god, why is it like I turned into some friggin’ groupie?”

“I think he might have a persuasive kind of telepathy,” Sam muttered from behind them. “Apparently he can make you see things. This isn’t the cosy home we thought it was.” He gestured to the bare walls, the lack of anything but sand and rocks. “He can create stuff out of thin air. Illusions at least.”

“Black smoke,” Dean grunted. “Demon?”

“Can’t be sure. I don’t smell sulphur though.”

Y/N’s fingers curled in Dean’s shirt, and he looked back to her, cupping her face again. “Why did I act like that?”

“Maybe he’s got more of a hook to the opposite sex?” Sam suggested, but Dean didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about the way Theseus had talked about her like a prize, like his property. And he didn’t want to burden her with that either.

He grinned tightly. “Who knows. Let’s just get out of here, find the way out, kill the monster and go home, yeah?” With one hand offered to her, he stood, helping her to her feet. “Easy.”

Sam scoffed and Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Wish I had your optimism.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was like starting all over again from the beginning. At least this time, she wasn’t alone.

They had no way of knowing if anything Theseus had told them was true - Dean had told them what the man-demon-whatever, had admitted to him, save a few minor details that he didn’t think were important. They had to get out of the Labyrinth - and all signs pointed to the middle.

“Dean, I gotta stop,” Sam groaned, limping heavily. “Think I twisted my knee or something. Can we just rest for a bit?” 

The elder brother stopped, looking around, trying to find any shelter. A few meters up in the darkness, there was an opening, possibly a room they could use for now. “Come on,” he gestured, and Y/N hurried to assist Sam. He looked exhausted, and to be honest, she felt it in her bones as deeply as he did.

She only wished she had Dean’s drive to get home.

Dean was at the doorway now, thrusting a torch ahead of his body, trying to see what was in there. When he found nothing, he waved Sam and Y/N over, guiding them into the small room. There was barely enough for Sam to lay flat, but he did his best, allowing Y/N to roll her cardigan under his head so he had some measure of comfort.

“Get some rest,” she whispered, before standing and walking back to the doorway, where Dean was acting as guard. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, and Dean frowned, then nodded, allowing her to draw him outside.

“What’s wrong?”

Y/N hesitated for a second, lifting her eyes to meet his, nervously glancing at the doorway. “I know you’re lying to me,” she announced, and Dean froze, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat. “Theseus… when you guys were outside… he wants me, doesn’t he?”

Dean didn’t know what to say; he was torn between protecting her and telling her the truth. That some possible evil demon wanted her for god knows what. That he might not be able to save her. Slowly, he nodded, resisting the urge to close his eyes, to avoid seeing the horror on her face.

“Ugh,” she spat, shuddering. “What a creep. Bad enough he uses mumbo jumbo to make me swoon like a One Direction groupie, then he does the thing with the pear juice and the thumb sucking and…”

“Wait, what?” Dean interrupted, holding up a hand. “Thumb sucking?”

Y/N shuddered again. “He put his thumb in my mouth and I… kinda... I can’t say it.”

Dean pulled a face, joining her in disgust. “Can we hope it was his thumb and not the thumb of his corpse? I suppose, it was the corpse, better his thumb than -”

“Please, stop talking,” she begged, unable to hide the slight smile at his rambling. “I don’t need to think about dead penis right now.”

“You could think about mine instead?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Dean’s eyes went wide as he registered exactly what he’d said. Y/N was staring at him like he’d sprouted antlers, and he laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I didn’t… I didn’t -”

“Why would I think about yours?” she asked, frowning.

His heart sank a little at that, and he gave her a shaky smile. “Just a joke. Tip of the tongue, dirty mind, you know me.”

She was staring at him now and Dean felt like he’d been stripped bare and exposed. His true, raw feelings were written on his skin, and now she’d reject him because he wasn’t worthy, wasn’t nearly half the person she was.

“Forget it,” he rushed out, pushing back from the wall. “Wasn’t funny.”

“Dean,” Y/N started, catching his arm, and goddamn, he couldn’t just walk away. “You’re… are you…”

He had to shut her up. He couldn’t do this right now, couldn’t talk about his feelings in the middle of the friggin’ danger zone, where anything could attack at any time. No, Dean needed her home, safe, warm, close - he wanted this to be more than a we-might-die-so-here’s-the-deal situation.

So, he kissed her.

Her surprise was evident by the way she froze against him for a split second, before she relaxed into the touch of his lips. She was soft and warm and pliant in his hold, and Dean couldn’t help but moan against her, swiping his tongue along her bottom lip, seeking entry.

Y/N pulled back, blinking up at him with uncertainty. “What was that?” she asked, her voice a whisper he could barely hear.

“Something I shoulda done a long time ago,” Dean admitted, smiling and cupping her face gently. “Y/N… fuck -”

“But I’m… you’re not… Dean, you’re my best friend. And I’m not the type of woman you -”

He stopped her, frowning in disagreement. “Not the type of woman? You’re badass, Y/N. You’re beautiful and confident, and fucking curves for miles. Any guy would be an idiot not to want you.” He moved in closer, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers, dipping his head slightly to kiss her chastely.

“You’re not… playing a joke or -”

He kissed her again, shutting her up for the second time, and attempting to dispel the notion that she wasn’t  _ good _ enough for him, when it was entirely the other way around. Dean ached for her, in every way he could, and knowing that she thought less of herself than she should left him empty and cold in his heart.

Y/N was responsive to his touch, seemingly abandoning her protests as Dean pressed her back against the wall, positioning himself between her thighs. At that angle, the bulge in his jeans protruded against her belly, and she gasped, arching up a little, breaking the kiss. “Dean…”

“Sssh, gonna show you,” he whispered, sliding one hand along her bare midriff, trying to ignore the flinch that betrayed her shyness. “Let me make you feel good, princess.” She nodded, mouth half open in a gasp as he pushed his fingers under the waistband of her pants. Dean wasn’t slow to seek out the heat between her thighs; he was desperate to hear her cry, to feel her wetness soaking his skin.

He’d never wanted anyone like he wanted her.

The first touch of his calloused finger-tip over her clit had her bucking and whimpering, struggling to keep herself quiet as Dean teased her. He captured her mouth in a kiss again, silencing her noises, keeping a steady rhythm of his finger on the sensitive bundle of nerves until he could feel her twitching. 

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, the words brushing against her lips. Y/N nodded, gasping and clutching his shoulders with both hands as she pushed back against him. Dean kept going, watching the pleasure break across her face, her eyes fluttering shut and a whisper of a cry on her lips.

He pulled away, palming his cock through his pants, wanting more. She opened her eyes again, lowering herself from the tiptoes she’d never noticed, her eyes wide and brimming with lust. “Dean -”

A horrifying roar interrupted them, followed by the noise of what sounded like a stampede. The ruckus roused Sam, who was up and alert, grabbing Y/N’s cardigan and throwing it to her, either not noticing or not caring about her dishevelled appearance and Dean’s rumpled clothing. “I think we need to leave.”

He limped off away from the threat, and Y/N tore away from Dean, dragging on his sleeve. “We gotta go, Dean!” He stumbled, keeping his eyes on the end of the hallway, just in time to see a huge beast crash around the turn, someone held in his grasp. “Dean!” Y/N cried out, and he shook himself and ran, not needing to hear the sound of someone being ripped apart.

They ran as fast as they could, Sam’s hisses of pain just about audible over the stampede behind them. The bull headed creature was gaining, it’s snorts and growls chasing them, and Y/N felt like her lungs were going to fail before she was safe.

Another forced turn, and Sam fell, screaming in pain as his leg twisted with a sickening crunch. Dean was instantly at his side, dragging him along with difficulty before Y/N was on the other side, trying her best to hoist up Sam’s significantly larger frame. They had to keep moving.

“It’s the friggin’ Minotaur,” Dean panted, his eyes scanning the poorly lit hallway ahead. “We need to get out of sight!”

“There!” Sam groaned, throwing his head to the left. A small crevice, only noticeable from the shadows, was a few meters ahead, and Y/N took the lead, going in first, helping Sam into the small gap, before she reached out to drag Dean in. They pushed back as far as they could in the tiny crack, each holding their breath as the sound of hooves grew closer.

The Minotaur crashed past, a flash of skin and fur, and the noise grew further and further away, until it was a buzz in the distance.

They didn’t move.

When Dean finally shifted, Y/N’s left foot was completely numb, and Sam was groaning in pain behind her. He slumped down, unable to hold his weight any longer, and Y/N turned, trying to see to him in the almost pitch-black. 

Dean grabbed for his brother, helping him out of the crevice, letting him collapse to the sandy floor outside. He checked the leg, frowning when Sam cried out. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he assured his little brother. “But I probably wouldn’t walk on it.”

“That’s gonna be a problem,” Sam muttered, a sardonic smile on his face.

“Guys,” Y/N called, standing a few feet away looking up at something on the wall.

“What?” Dean barked back, too busy trying to find anything in the backpack he’d already searched three thousand times.

“Look,” she replied, and Dean rolled his eyes in frustration, turning to see what she was pointing at.

Mounted high on the wall, just below the ceiling, a camera blinked at them, reflecting the firelight from the torches. Dean stood up, walking over and finding a crack in the wall, which allowed him to spring up and grab the camera, tearing it down. Wires came with it, cracking the brittle sandstone casing that hid the electricity supply.

Y/N stared at the camera in Dean’s hands, as he angled it towards his face, and focused a murderous look on the lens. “Where there’s a wire -” she started, lifting her eyes to meet Dean’s.

He smirked, at her, before looking back at the camera, keeping the deadly look on his face. For a second, he hoped whoever was on the other end was pissing their pants. Dropping the camera, he raised his foot and smashed it down on the casing, shattering it.

“Show’s over,” he grunted, looking at Y/N. “We need to follow those wires.”

*****

They took it slow, giving Sam as much rest as he needed. Some spots where the wires were covered in the fake sandstone were tougher than the others, which allowed the younger Winchester a break.

Y/N couldn’t stop stealing glances at Dean. It was like the heat between them had intensified, and she felt like her skin was on fire when she thought about how he pinned her and giving her probably the best non-penetrative orgasm of her life. And in about three seconds.

She wanted out of this hell more than ever.

It didn’t help that Dean was going out of his way to brush against her - a hand on the back, fingers gliding over hers. She’d spotted the wound on his knuckles, and by process of elimination, decided he’d probably punched a wall when he was pissed off, and she prayed that she wasn’t the source of that frustration.

“What’s that?” Sam asked, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts, and directing both hers and Dean attention to further up the wall. It was about eight foot up, a visibly discolored square on the wall, and Dean frowned, looking for a foothold to climb up. The ceilings were getting higher in places, making it a little harder to see the wires they were dragging free, but they had found four more cameras on their way.

There wasn’t a place for Dean to put his foot, and Y/N handed him the screwdriver, giving him a silent suggestion that he threw a smile at her for. His fingers brushed hers as he took the tool, an irrepressible shudder climbing her spine when he turned away.

Minutes later, he’d dug two small trenches into the stone wall, and using them, he climbed up, slamming the screwdriver into the wall. The fake sandstone fell away, crumbling down over Dean’s head and he spluttered with taste of powder in his mouth. Where he’d smashed the screwdriver in, there was a metal panel, and he stretched further, using his fingers to pry the panel open.

Inside was an emergency lever, labelled and red, and Dean glanced at Sam before shrugging. He curled his fingers around the lever, pulling it with a firm tug.

Nothing happened. Y/N stood, staring at the box, a frown settling on her face. “It’s not doing anything.”

No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, that the wall that Dean was perched on started to shake. The sand at the bottom shifted, and the hunter quickly let go, falling onto his ass and scrambling backwards as the wall literally parted like the red sea.

When it was finished, and the dust that had filled the air cleared, Sam climbed to his feet, peering into the darkness of whatever they had opened. Dean stepped forward, putting himself between his brother and Y/N, ready with the screwdriver if anything jumped out at him. He took the torch from Y/N, thrusting it into the dark, and the room lit up as soon as his arm crossed the threshold.

Modern, fluorescent lighting tubes along the walls illuminated what looked like a storage room. Inside were rations of all types, bottled water, and first aid kits. Dean frowned in confusion, moving into the room, inspecting everything. “What the hell is this?”

Sam limped in, leaning heavily against a wall as he picked up a box, turning it over. His face paled, and he held it up for Dean to see the clearly inscribed Aquarian Star on the bottom.

“So is this place theirs?” Y/N asked, looking at the box. “Are we actually in the Labyrinth, or is this whole thing a game?”

“I don’t know, but I’m done playing,” Dean snapped, his anger not directed at Y/N, but she felt it anyway. His face was red with fury, and he picked up some of the rations. “Load up with what you can, I wanna get out -”

“Dean!” Y/N interrupted him, pointing at the back of the room. He turned, raising an eyebrow as he saw what she did - a slight curve in the wall, about the width of his hand.

A handle.

Opening the door wasn’t a difficulty - a little elbow grease and movement of some boxes, and Dean could get his hand into the dent and pull hard. The door revealed a smaller, thin passageway, like a maintenance access point, lit up with electric lights and best of all - no sand. “What’s the betting that there  _ is _ more than one way out of this hellhole?” Dean asked, smirking over his shoulder.v


	7. Chapter 7

After a short discussion, it was decided Sam would stay put. His leg was bruising, the knee completely wrenched, and walking for too long wasn’t going to do it any good. Dean packed up one of the rucksacks with food and water, finding a few items as makeshift weapons. Y/N now had a small knife, and Dean had located a flare gun.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asked Sam for the thousandth time.

“I’m sure. Just go. Get out, get help, and I’ll wait.”

Dean eyed him, still not happy with the decision but knowing that without Sam slowing them down, he and Y/N could find a way out quickly. The Labyrinth seemed a little less daunting now that it was at least partially fake.

Twenty minutes after leaving Sam behind, Y/N finally broke the tense silence. “You think this place is built like the bunker?” she asked, trailing behind Dean. He looked over his shoulder, huffing.

“Probably. Wouldn’t put anything past those British douchebags.”

“What about Theseus?”

Dean growled at the mention of his name, still bristling with the way he’d touched her. If it was the last thing Dean did, he’d see that dick dead. “You think that was his real name?” he returned, and Y/N sighed.

“All I know is that the thought of him makes my skin crawl. And he… he wants me? Why me?”

“I don’t know, but he ain’t gettin’ what he wants, baby girl.” Dean stopped, turning as Y/N came to a halt behind him. He reached out with his uninjured hand, cupping her jaw and running his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m getting you out of here, and back to the bunker, so we can finish what we started.”

Her cheeks heated instantly, and she gravitated towards him, caught in his eyes, despite the dim lights surrounding them. His lips were soft and warm against hers, and Y/N couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, letting her eyes flutter shut at the gentle kiss.

When they parted, he was breathing heavily, and pressed into her, and she could  _ feel _ how much he wanted to continue. But they had to get out and rescue Sam before they could think of anything like that.

“You promise?” she whispered, almost scared that if she spoke too loudly, she’d wake herself up from the dream. Dean was all she’d ever wanted, and now, it felt to good to be real. For her, these things didn’t happen.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been so deadly serious in my life,” Dean growled, dragging her against his body so she could feel just how fucking hard he was, how much he wanted her right there and then. Y/N squeaked, returning the second kiss eagerly until he pulled away again.

He threaded his fingers through hers, smiling at her. She grinned back, high on the taste of him, allowing him to tug her along the corridor. The thought of getting back to the bunker caused a pulse between her thighs, and for now, she allowed her hopes to build.

They were going to get home.

They had to.

*****

“This tunnel just goes on forever,” Dean groaned, pausing to fish a bottle of water out of the bag. “Maybe we should turn back.”

It had been maybe an hour since they left Sam, and Y/N could feel the tension and worry coming off of Dean. They’d seen nothing but air vents since entering the corridor, and it didn’t seem to have an end.

“There’s gotta be a reason it’s here,” she reasoned, looking around. 

“Unless it’s old and unused. Sealed up.”

“Those rations weren’t that old, Dean.”

He was quiet for a second, offering her the water, which she took gratefully. “I suppose at least we haven’t found any monsters,” he concluded, and Y/N smiled, leaning back against the wall. The panel behind her rattled and gave way, sending her tumbling backwards with a shriek. “Y/N!” Dean cried, trying to catch her before she landed.

Hitting the ground with a pained grunt, Y/N immediately scowled as she realized she’d found more sand. The water in the bottle had splashed out everywhere, soaking her already flimsy blouse where it was wrapped around her chest. “For fucks sake,” she cursed, getting to her feet and brushing herself down.

“Er…” Dean started, eyes wide as he looked beyond her. Y/N frowned, turning to look in the same direction, and her stomach dropped.

She’d landed in a wide, open cavern, and a few meters behind her, the Minotaur was laid across a stone table, obviously asleep.

“I’d say we’re lucky to find a room, but I think it might be a bit soon for that,” Dean murmured, coming up behind her. The light from the hallway they’d left was only enough to light the first few feet, but the rest of the huge stone cavern was lit by torches.

Behind the Minotaur’s bed, was another table, this one loaded with a television set and what looked like a games console. Dean frowned as he looked around, realizing that the room looked more than anything like a… bedroom? “What the hell is this?” Y/N hissed, careful of making too much noise. “It looks like his friggin’ home.”

“Creature comforts, I guess,” Dean provided, smirking as Y/N rolled her eyes. 

Without warning, the Minotaur rolled over, eyes snapping open to stare at them. Despite the huge bulls head, the golden orbs were surprisingly human, and he sat up, wobbling a little. “Who are you?” he asked, and both hunters looked at each other - they hadn’t been expecting him to speak.

“I’m Y/N,” Y/N introduced herself, giving him a hesitant smile. The Minotaur didn’t look overly impressed, but he remained sat casually on the edge of the stone bed. “We… we’re lost?”

“Everyone gets lost in here,” the Minotaur snorted, “it’s a maze.”

Dean laughed nervously, overreacting a little and earned himself a glare from the beast. “I’m sorry, that was… that was inappropriate.” He schooled his features, but his lips kept twitching.

“Do you have a name?” Y/N asked, trying to change the subject.

The Minotaur looked at her curiously. “Of course I have a name,” he replied, wiping his snout on his hand. “I’m Theseus.”

*****

Sam wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He’d picked through all the boxes in the small storage room, and come up with a few handy items, but otherwise, he was bored. Resting his leg was leaving him useless, and Sam hated not being able to do anything.

So when a sound echoed along the hallway outside, he felt at least a tiny thrill of something going on, despite his inability to do much but hide.

“You’re saying they found a camera?” a male voice asked in a thick British accent, the sound bouncing down the walls, making it nearly impossible to deduce their position in relation to his.

A second masculine voice answered, American this time and a little higher in pitch than the first. “Alesandro nearly shit himself when that hunter grinned at him. They’re on to us, Hilts, I swear.”

Hilts, the first voice, chuckled before replying. “We’ve got guns, Matthew. Don’t fret. We’ll take out the Winchesters, just like instructed.”

“What about the girl?” Matthew asked, but there was no answer, and Sam frowned, crowding his way backwards behind a pile of boxes. He hoped they didn’t come in, but given the wide open door… “Hilts, storage deposit sixteen is open.”

Silence fell after that, but Sam could hear their footsteps grow closer, his sharper senses alerting him when they entered the room. After a few minutes, they stopped moving. “If they were here, they took off down maintenance pipe twenty. That gives us a few possibilities of where they went.”

“Director Thorne isn’t going to be happy about this,” Matthew mumbled, and there was a thud sound as Hilts hit him with the butt of his gun. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re doing our job here. Keep Alesandro on the cameras - we’ll spot them eventually.”

Their footsteps moved away, and the door to the hallway closed. When he felt it was safe, Sam dragged himself from his hiding spot, picking up a few rations. Staying put was not an option anymore - he had to find Dean and Y/N.

*****

“So this Labyrinth…”

“Is a fake,” Theseus repeated, scratching at his large ears. “They built it to run tests on their recruits, to train them against monsters. Like me. And in the meantime, I get fed, watered and… well, sheltered. Can’t exactly go walking around Macy’s.”

Y/N smiled at the joke, nudging Dean, who was still openly staring at the Minotaur. The bull head meant nothing - Theseus was cursed, and apparently rather blase about it. “How long have you been here?”

“This Labyrinth?” he clarified, tilting his huge head, and Y/N nodded. “Well, the old one was demolished in 09 -”

“2009?” Dean interrupted, and Theseus shook his head, the long hair of his mane flying everywhere.

“1909. I think. They moved me here shortly after. I can’t say it’s better accommodation, but at least I can get groceries delivered.” The Minotaur stood up, wandering over to a small fridge the other side of the room. “Beer?”

“We saw you… chasing someone. You killed them,” Dean pointed out.

Theseus looked blankly at them, like they were speaking a different language. “I don’t run. Anywhere. Period.” He walked back over, sitting down again. “I jump out and scare new recruits. If you think I was chasing someone, it wasn’t me.” For a second, he looked a little distracted. “Might have been Minos though. He’s a right pain that one.”

Dean glanced at Y/N, who frowned and watched the creature sip his beer through thick bovine lips. It dribbled down over his beard, and he wiped it away with his hand. “Minos?”

“Oh, Minos is the original Minotaur,” Theseus explained, as if it were the simplest thing ever. “He’s kept on the south side. He must have gotten out again. He’s not like me - more animal, less man. And he’s only used to train the senior recruits.” 

“What about the other guy, the one that said  _ he  _ was Theseus?” Y/N prodded, seeing the concern on the Minotaur’s face. “We think he might have been a demon.”

“Black smoke? Smarmy?” Dean nodded, but Theseus didn’t stop. “Talks like he’s god’s gift, and gets  _ all _ the ladies?”

“That would be the douche,” Dean grunted, and Theseus laughed, standing up and draining his beer. He grabbed another from the fridge, along with two more, passing them to Dean and Y/N. She declined, but Dean took the refreshment happily.

The Minotaur sat down once more, crossing his legs in the baggy pants he was wearing. With the bull head, he was at least eight feet tall, but the way he spoke and acted, and drank beer, he wasn’t at all as alarming than he had been at first. “That would be Dolos. He’s sort of a demon, I suppose. He doesn’t have his own body.”

Y/N looked over at Dean, who was thinking the same thing. “He doesn’t have a meatsuit?”

“Considering he’s about four thousand years old… no, he doesn’t,” Theseus sighed, sipping his beer. “He isn’t stuck here like us. I don’t even know if upstairs have any idea he leaves, but I know he strikes deals with other creatures. He’s always causing trouble, it’s why he was thrown in here in the first place.”

“Why does he want me?” Y/N whispered, the question aimed at Dean.

Theseus held up a hand, shaking it from side to side. “Did you say he wants you?” She nodded at him, and the Minotaur scratched his chin. “Hmmm. That’s interesting. The last time he wanted a female, he was chasing after some famous movie actress. Hired someone to kidnap her and everything, but apparently it all went wrong and she died.”

“I’m not the first? Do you know why he wants me?”

An unhelpful shrug was her reply. “I don’t exactly socialize with any of the freaks down here, miss. I think you’re the first people I’ve spoken to in twenty years. And you’re hunters, which isn’t usually good news for someone like me.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Y/N assured him. “We just wanna get out of here and go home.”

“If the British put you down here, they want you dead. And the exit… well, I can show you where it is, but I don’t know what you’ll be facing when you get out of here.”

Dean drained his beer, crushing the can in his hand, which made Theseus look at him with exasperation. “We can deal with that. Just show us the way.”

*****

Sam limped along the corridor, searching with his hands for any exits. It was slow going, and his leg was throbbing with the pain of his wrenched knee; by no means the worst injury he’d suffered, but lack of proper food and rest was adding to the torture.

When he finally found the collapsed panel that Dean and Y/N had gone through, it led to an empty room, that was surprisingly filled with a few modern appliances, and after poking around, he decided to continue on.

Climbing back into the hatch with difficulty, he moved along again, finding another panel that wasn’t broken. It was easy enough to pull free, and Sam found himself looking out into another long hallway, and this one had a corpse to go with it.

He grimaced, deciding that this wasn’t where he wanted to be, and turned to move away, only to find himself pulled backwards by an invisible force. Landing on the sand, he grunted in pain at the jolt to his leg, clutching it as he tried to see what was coming for him.

A man all in black stood just by the freshly dead body Sam had spotted before, smirking down at him. His eyes were black, and the gun he held was loaded and aimed at his forehead. “Sam. How nice to see you again.”

“Theseus,” Sam growled, rolling onto his belly and getting to his unsteady feet.

“Actually, it’s Dolos. I borrowed that moniker because I thought it might work to persuade your female companion a little more.” The man’s smirk widened, and Sam wobbled on the spot. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to shoot you,” Dolos added, lowering the weapon.

“Then what are you going to do with me?” Sam asked.

Dolos laughed, reaching out to grip Sam’s arm, tugging him forward. “I’m going to trade you for what I want. Knowing your brother, he won’t hesitate to hand over the girl for his precious brother.”

“Why do you want Y/N?” Sam snarled under his breath as Dolos pushed him ahead, forcing him to walk on his injured leg. “Who is she to you?”

“A descendant of a very particular line. You know the story - true vessels and all. Except, she’s a true vessel in a different way to your angel-riding ass.”

Sam wanted to kill him, but he also wanted to know more. “So you’re a demon?”

“No, Sam. I’m much more than a demon. They are pale imitations of what I truly am.” The gun poked him in the ribs as Dolos pushed him further on. “And demons can hold a body for much longer than I can. This… form, will only serve me for a little while. But the right body… created in the right way…” Dolos leered as Sam tried to look at him over his shoulder. “With the right woman…”

He wanted Y/N to procreate. He wanted to use her. Sam shuddered, anger rising in his belly, fierce enough to shadow the pain of his leg. “Dean won’t trade me.”

Dolos laughed again, and Sam hoped to hell that Dean was already escaping with Y/N. “That’s what you think.”


	8. Chapter 8

Theseus wasn’t entirely chatty on the journey through the corridors of the Labyrinth. It was disconcerting to walk behind a creature so large and strange, but Y/N was just glad to see an end to the torment.

When the corridor opened up into a large circular hall that looked like it had fallen out of a Playstation One game, the Minotaur stopped and turned to them, grinning.

Which, in case you hadn’t guessed, was quite horrifying to see on a bull’s face.

Dean smiled nervously, as Y/N held out her hand to Theseus, shaking his when he clasped his fingers around hers. “You can get out through there,” he explained, using his other hand to point to the spiral staircase. “Look me up on Facebook, I’m pretty easy to find.”

“Yeah,” Y/N giggled, finding the entire situation completely surreal. “We’re gonna have to go back for Sam anyway, but thank you for showing us the way.”

“Anytime. Nice to have a conversation with someone,” Theseus replied, still smiling, and Dean shuffled nervously. “Good luck. Hope you don’t get killed up there.”

“Thanks, m-man,” Dean faltered, still nervous as hell about the eight foot man with a bull’s head. Theseus clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner, but even the light touch sent Dean stumbling forward. He took a spot next to Y/N, brushing against her lightly as they watched the Minotaur retreat back the way they’d come. “He was nice.”

Y/N laughed, about to reply, when a yell of surprise rang out. A roar sounded from the direction Theseus had gone, and they both jumped into defensive postures when  _ two _ Minotaurs raced out of the shadows. Minos launched himself into the air, dragging Theseus down, and the smaller of the two hollered in pain.

A low whistle echoed through the huge chamber, and both hunters swung their attention away from the fighting beasts, seeing Sam on the other side, stood by another doorway. Behind him, a man in riot gear held a gun to his lower back, smiling a familiar way.

“That will do, Minos,” the man called, and the larger Minotaur backed off, chest heaving. Theseus attempted to get up, only to fail and fall again. “Down,” the man ordered, and Sam dropped to his knees, wincing at the agony it caused him. “Dean. Y/N.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Always so eloquent,” Dolos replied, raising the gun a little higher as Dean took a step towards him. “Surely you remember old friends?”

“Dolos,” Y/N hissed, curling her fingers into fists. Dean scowled as Dolos laughed. “He’s taken another host.”

“Oh yes,” he affirmed, fixing his cold black gaze on her. “And I still want you, Y/N,” he crooned. “Won’t you come with me? I’ll show you the way home, where you can sleep and eat -” Her facial expression relaxed as his voice entranced her, but Dean saw it this time and stepped in front of her.

Y/N shuddered, frowning at the taller hunter. “What are -?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Dean growled, not making eye contact. “We gotta kill him, Y/N.”

“Y/N. I like that,” Dolos complimented. “Cute.” He prodded Sam with the gun. “I’ll take her and you can have your brother back. Quick and painless.”

Sam scowled, shaking his head, even as Dolos hit him with the muzzle. “Dean, don’t -”

Dean glared daggers at the man holding his brother captive. It wasn’t a decision he was about to make, and he needed to come up with a plan, fast. “What the hell do you want with her anyway? You can leave this place. Why all the games?”

Dolos rolled his eyes. “I can leave but I always have to come back! And hosts? I can burn through them in hours if I exert myself. With  _ her _ , I can build myself a host that is made for me, that can leave this wretched place!” His cheeks were red with anger by now, and his eyes flashed. “It would have been easier for her to come willingly. If I’d known the stupid Brits were bringing in her goddamn friends, I wouldn’t have had to do all this. I could have found her alone, and rescued her. After the trouble I went to to get her here -”

“Why me?” Y/N spat. “What the hell makes me so special that -”

“Because,” Dolos started, seemingly calm again, “you’re a legacy. Just like these two.”

Theseus groaned, trying to get to his feet; behind him, Minos stomped his cloven hooves and snorted, looking to Dolos for direction. “Dolos, you dick,” Theseus groaned, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t you want to leave?!” Dolos shouted, directing his question at the injured Minotaur. “You’ve been here just as long as the rest of us. We’re being  _ used _ , Theseus.”

“And?” Theseus returned, shrugging. “I’ve got six hundred channels in 4K High Definition, the latest Xbox, and all the beer and tacos I could want. Why the hell would I want to leave? No one makes fun of me here. No one tortures me, or comes at me with pitchforks. Why would I want to spend my life hiding up there with nothing, when down here, I’m useful?”

Silence followed his statement, and Dean pulled a face, sticking out his bottom lip as he tipped his head in agreement at the Minotaur’s reasons for being a well behaved creature. Dolos, on the other hand, didn’t seem so impressed with it. “We could be gods up there to them.”

Theseus seemed to be done with the conversation, and turned around to face the other Minotaur. “And you’re just a bloody disgrace,” he muttered, leaving Minos looking slightly offended, if he was capable of higher thinking. “I’m sorry guys, but I’m not getting involved in this.”

Y/N looked at Dean, who looked bewildered now as Theseus attempted to leave again.

“Enough!” Dolos shouted, pulling the gun up. “Your brother, or your girlfriend, Dean,  _ choose _ .”

*****

Sam had been absorbing everything. The whole time, most of his life, he’d sucked up knowledge like a sponge. And Dolos was boastful at best, and giving away his entire plan at worst. While he’d escorted Sam to the central chamber of the Labyrinth (which was in Crete after all, but wasn’t actually that big), he’d bragged about his entire plan.

It was his second attempt at escape, and he’d done his research. He needed to procreate with a descendant of Daedulus, the creator of the original Labyrinth. Within the walls of the great construct, Dolos was bound in non-corporeal form. He could only leave in corporeal form, but his meatsuits burned out too quickly for him to get very far. Each time they’d recreated the maze, they had used stone from the original and this kept him trapped, century after century.

If he could produce a child, he could leave by using it as a vessel.

Y/N was a descendant of the original architect, and her blood, her body, was his key to escape.

Sam doubted she’d say yes to a date with the guy.

Dolos was temperamental, and quick to lose his shit. Sam could tell Dean was provoking him, and Theseus, the apparently  _ real _ Theseus, only made it worse. He could feel his captor’s control slipping, see the now very literal cracks in his shell.

Corporeal could hold a gun. Non-corporeal couldn’t.

“Dean!” Sam called, staying where he was. “You should just leave me here.”

“I will shoot you,” Dolos threatened, but Sam knew that he wouldn’t. If he killed Sam, Dean would lose his mind, and Dolos was running low on energy. They just had to stall him a little. “Don’t think I won’t!” He cocked the gun, showing off, and the rattle of the barrel concerned Sam that he might accidentally shoot him instead of purposefully.

“Hey,” Y/N shouted, pushing Dean out of the way. “What makes you think I even  _ wanna _ go with you?” she demanded, eyes blazing. Dolos smirked, gesturing with one hand.

“I am a God, Y/N/N,” he stole the nickname, making her feel a little sick. “I could give you the world.”

“You’re an egotistical prick,” she spat. “And I wouldn’t date you if you were the last person on earth with a dick!” Dean leaned in, muttering something into her ear. Her face screwed up in disgust. “Oh my god, and you’re literally riding a corpse. No thanks, not into that.”

Dolos shook with rage, and the skin on his throat split. Sam smiled, nodding that they should continue. Dean laughed, pointing at his brother’s captor, shaking his head. “Can dead guys even get it up? Or are you gonna baste it?”

“Shut up!” Dolos screeched, gesturing to the remaining Minotaur. “Minos. Kill him!”

The beast roared and scraped at the floor with one hoofed foot, preparing to charge. Dean glanced over his shoulder, and swore, dragging Y/N with him as he started to run. Dolos laughed maniacally, losing his focus, giving Sam enough room to swing round and grapple for the gun, just as Minos surged forward.

“The stairs!” Y/N screamed, and Dean moved towards the center of the room, scrambling up with her on his heels. The bull didn’t stop coming, an unbelievable speed carrying him towards them. Stairs weren’t apparently a problem, and Y/N cried out again as the bull got closer.

Dolos saw the danger she was in, and, unwilling to let his only chance slip through his fingers, he called out for the beast to stop. Minos froze, backing off of Y/N, who pulled herself up into Dean’s waiting arms.

Sam managed to take possession of the gun, holding it up as he limped backwards from Dolos, whose vessel was beginning to wilt quickly. He’d used too much energy, too much power - and he wasn’t much in non-corporeal form. “You… you can’t…”

“Oh, we can,” Sam growled, taking aim and firing at the creep.

The vessel degraded into a fine powder, and all that was left behind was black smoke. It hung in the air, before seeping backwards into the walls. Minos stood still for a moment, before blinking and shaking his head, moving away like he’d forgotten what he was doing.

Dean eyed the creature warily as it walked off in a daze, apparently not interested in them anymore. As soon as he felt it was safe, he jumped down the steps, rushing to help his brother along.

“Hey guys,” Y/N asked as they approached the bottom of the steps. “Can we get the fuck out of here?”

*****

Alesandro had had a really bad day. It was wet season, and he had managed to get caught in a downpour on his way to work, and he was still having nightmares about that hunter’s grin in the camera. Like he could see through the lens to his enemy, and he knew where they were.

He still shuddered whenever he thought about it.

Sometimes he regretted taking this job. But his uncle had gotten it for him, and times were tough. He had a family to feed after all. Contracting security was all he had ever done, and this was one of the more well-compensated jobs.

Fifteen minutes to go, and he could go home and see his beautiful Eleanor. Four years old and smart as a whip, was his girl. He kept a photo of her at his workstation.

So when gunfire exploded through the locked door behind him, he instantly threw himself on the floor and cowered, because having a job didn’t do you any good if you were dead.

There were three figures coming into the room, through a door that Alesandro had never been through, and never wanted to go through. He watched through the cameras, and hoped to god he never saw that door open.

Now, he’d seen it explode.

“Please!” he begged, not in the least bit ashamed. “I don’t want to die!”

The grinning hunter was standing over him, and Alesandro felt a little bit of pee escape his bladder. He was going to die. “We’re not gonna kill you,” the hunter said, frowning as he beckoned him to his feet. One of the others held a gun, and Alesandro’s eyes widened. “But we do need some answers.”


	9. Chapter 9

As it turned out, the grinning hunter - Dean - was just as terrifying as he’d initially thought, but he wasn’t going to hurt him. Alesandro was still on edge, and frightened as hell of these people that had come out of  _ there _ , but they had given him assurance that they just wanted to get out.

“I can help. It is night shift. The only other two staff that were here, I have not seen them,” he explained, watching Dean go through everything he could. His English wasn’t fantastic, but he’d learned it in school and polished it up a bit working for the strange British company that owned the site.

Sam and Dean explained to him who they were, but it didn’t make much sense to him. It did, however, make sense that he needed to leave immediately before he couldn’t leave at all. 

“There is a boat, to the mainland -”

“Boat?” Dean asked, stopping in his search.

Alesandro nodded. “We are on an island site. We have to ferry over by boat. I know where there is an emergency vehicle that we can use, and when we return to the mainland, I shall take you to the Embassy.”

Sam shook his head. “No need for that. Just get us out of here, and get us a cellphone. We can do the rest.”

“I have a phone,” Alesandro admitted, fishing it out of his pocket. “We are not supposed to have them, but my little girl - she cannot sleep without the song.”

Y/N turned to him, smiling softly. “What song?” she asked, and Alesandro looked down shyly.

“The song my mother sang at our wedding. Bed Of Roses,” he murmured, embarrassment on his face. “My Eleanor, she watches the video again and again. The song is her favorite.”

“That’s so sweet,” Y/N cooed, taking his phone gently. “We’ll make sure you get home so she doesn’t miss it ever again,” she promised, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean rolled his eyes at the chick flick moment, and promptly got Sam’s elbow in his ribcage, as well as a strained scowl. “Cas?”

“Yeah,” Dean gruffed, checking over the cameras again. “We don’t know if those British douchebags checked in at all. If they know they’re dead, reinforcements will be here soon.”

Y/N was already dialling the number she knew by heart, and swore when she got the unavailable tone. “What?” asked Sam, hearing her curse.

“Forgot to put the international code,” she tossed back, dialling again, correctly this time. The phone rang, and rang, and for a second, she was giving up hope. Then the line clicked and Castiel’s gruff voice rang out in greeting. “Cas!” The angel’s voice was a squeak on the other end that the others couldn’t make out. “We were kidnapped. Can we explain later? We’d love a pick up.” She paused, looking up at Sam. “You can’t sense us?” Another pause. “We’re in Crete. Yeah, Europe.” Switching ears, she scowled at thin air. “No, I’m not joking.” With a growl of frustration, she hung up, looking at the other three occupants of the room. “He can’t find us. We’re shielded by warding. He’s close but we need to be outside.” Y/N turned to Alesandro, handing him back his phone. 

Dean pointed at their willing hostage, who looked a little frightened. “We need to get to that boat.”

*****

With all the trouble that they’d dealt with in the past however-long, the fact that Castiel was standing on the shore by the boat was the best thing ever, if you asked Y/N. The relief she felt was so overwhelming that she thought she was going to cry.

And then alarms started going off.

The dock they stood on, looking down at the shoreline and the confused angel of the Lord, was old and made of the same stone as inside the Labyrinth. The additional buildings and military equipment clearly didn’t fit with the aesthetic - neither did the groups of armed men in SWAT gear that were piling up around them.

“Short-lived victory,” Dean growled, tugging Y/N backwards. “Cas!”

“Yes, Dean?” The angel was suddenly right there, beside them, apparently not caring about the army training their guns on them.

“We need to get out of here.”

“I cannot take all of you at once,” Castiel replied, matter-of-factly. “Maybe two, but it’s a long way and I’m not one hundred percent…”

Dean groaned in frustration. “Dammit Cas, just take us off this island. The mainland! Get us to the mainland!” The angel frowned, pressing his hand against Sam’s head and Y/N’s, and they disappeared in the blink of an eye. Alesandro shrieked in surprise, and Dean chuckled, before ducking swiftly behind the wall as the gunfire started. “You have trouble with bowel movements?” Dean asked, just as Castiel reappeared, ignoring the bullets coming his way, and gripping both men by their biceps.

“Why do you ask?” Alesandro queried, but before Dean could answer, they were moving. His stomach rolled and flopped, and when he realized that he was standing on land again, with his town in sight, he promptly turned and vomited.

“First ride,” Dean shrugged, turning to Y/N.

“What was that?!” Alesandro exclaimed, staring at Cas, who stared right back like an unbothered feline. “You are… you are magical?”

“I’m an Angel,” Castiel drawled back, glancing to Dean. “Would you like to return to Kansas?” he asked, looking impatient.

Y/N nodded, before approaching Alesandro. “Will you be okay?”

He nodded, somewhat dumbly, still staring at Castiel. “I live not far from here,” he whispered, eyes wide in wonder, and Y/N smiled, patting his shoulder.

“Be safe, Alesandro, and thank you,” she said quietly, before moving to stand with Dean and Sam. Just as Cas raised his fingers to touch her forehead, she felt Dean’s fingers twist into hers .

*****

Home, sweet, home.

Three showers and one bath later, and Y/N could still feel sand in places she didn’t want to feel sand. If she never saw a beach again, she wouldn’t care. She hated the stuff. She also hated Dean’s constant Anakin Skywalker quotes about it.

_ Could at least quote the good films. _

It was two days before any of them felt remotely right about themselves again, despite Castiel healing all of their immediate injuries. He’d disappeared almost instantly after that, and hadn’t shown his face again since, and Y/N could only feel like they’d inconvenienced him or something.

A knocking on her bedroom door dragged her from her thoughts, and she stopped drying her hair on the towel, looking up to see Dean loitering in the doorway. “Hey,” he greeted, “mind if I come in?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “How’s Baby?” The Impala had been left on the road where they’d been run off near Boston, and it had taken a full forty-eight hours to track her down. She was close to being crushed when Dean finally claimed her, showing fraudulent identification, and paying for her impound fee on a fake credit card. The police had accepted his story of theft from the other side of the country, and seemed relieved when he didn’t want to press it any further.

“She’s back in fighting shape,” Dean grinned, striding over to the bed. He dropped down next to her, looking her in the eye. “You look like you are too.”

“Well, apparently, Labyrinth’s are really good for losing a few pounds,” Y/N retorted, smirking at him. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous just the way you are. You don’t need to lose anything.”

She blushed at that, her mind flashing back to their encounter in the maze, his skilled fingers and lingering promise of more to come. “So, we started something back there, huh?” It was lame, and she felt ridiculous saying it, and the fear of him suddenly rejecting her made her feel sick.

Dean leered, crowding in a little closer. “I was waiting for you to bring it up,” he purred, capturing her lips as relief flooded her system, and she melted into him. “Wanted to join you in the shower,” he murmured, breaking away to speak. “But you rushed off before I could -”

“Sand,” she interrupted, explaining her hasty retreat. “Everywhere.”

“I hate sand,” he started, but Y/N shut him up with another kiss.

“Stop quoting that damn film,” she scolded, and he chuckled, allowing her to pull him down to the bed. For long minutes, they just kissed, enjoying the softness of each other, and the only sound was their mingled moans.

When Y/N pulled away to yawn loudly, Dean laughed under his breath. “Get some sleep, baby girl. We got all the time in the world.”

*****

The jostling of the mattress woke her from her deep slumber, and Y/N rolled onto her side, finding herself bereft of Dean’s heat. He was still in the bed, but sat up, hugging his knees as he stared directly ahead.

“Dean?” she rasped, pressing a palm to her tired eyes, blinking rapidly. “You okay?”

He nodded, turning his head to give her a soft smile, releasing his hold on his knees to reach over with one hand and clasp her thigh firmly. “Go back to sleep.”

Y/N frowned, pushing up to look at him, concern flooding her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Dean sighed, dropping his chin onto his arms, taking his gaze away from her, and Y/N relaxed down onto her haunches so she was sitting beside him, but facing him. “Please tell me, Dean. We can’t go into this if you don’t trust me; if you don’t let me in.”

He didn’t move, but his eyes rose to hers again, and she smiled, placing one warm hand on his bicep. “We didn’t take care of them. The Men Of Letters. They’ll come after us again, and…”

“And we’ll kick it in the ass,” Y/N urged, pressing in a little closer to him. “Dean, you’re selling yourself short. You always do. Do you know how many hunters have done what you and Sam did? You’re the best, and the Brits should be fuckin’ scared of what’s coming to ‘em.” She gave him a cheeky grin, leaning against him as she stroked his arm, dropping down to his thigh.

“You gotta lotta faith in me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered, his body tensing as she slipped her hand around his thigh, just brushing the swollen tip of his cock through his boxers. “Mmm,” he groaned, biting his bottom lip when she repeated the action, teasing him. “You know I can’t lose you, right?”

Y/N smiled, pushing down a little on his thigh, and Dean let his legs sink down, stretching them out. He wasn’t ashamed of the tent in his boxer shorts, or the damp patch at the very tip of where his erection strained the material. When she curled her fingers around his clothed cock, Dean moaned long and deep, letting the pleasure rumble up through his chest.

“Goddamn, Y/N,” he gasped, looking down his body to watch her tug the boxers down, leaving them half around his thighs, just out of her way. She bent down, hair cascading over his legs as she kissed the crown of his cock, sucking lightly at the tip, before running her tongue around the thick ridge of his head. The way she moved her tongue was agonizingly slow and sending delicious jolts through his balls. “Goddamn fuck -” Dean growled, unable to stop his hips bucking.

“Stay still,” she ordered in a whisper, and then she was sinking down on him, not stopping until the tip of his cock bumped the back of her throat, and he thought she’d pull back. But instead, she was still running her tongue around him in random patterns that felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Her fingers brushed his balls, cupping his sac gently, her thumb pressing ever so lightly into the dip where the base of his cock started.

Stars danced behind his eyelids as Dean struggled to keep control. Y/N was still sucking him down, breathing heavily through her nose and when he opened his eyes to look down at her, he almost lost it. She was looking at him, working her tongue, her cheeks hollowed as she took every inch she could.

When she did pull back, a line of saliva connecting them for a split second as her face reddened with the effort, Dean thought he might be the luckiest man alive. Y/N licked her lips, running her fingers through her hair as she smiled down at him.

“Get over here,” he snapped playfully, pouncing upwards to hook one hand around her waist and drag her down, pinning her between his larger frame. He fumbled to get his pants off all the way, flinging them across the room where they hit the wall and slid behind her dresser. 

But neither of them noticed. Dean was touching her all over, running his hands up and down, determined to imprint the feel of her on his memory, and Y/N was lost in his kisses, on the taste of his tongue brushing against hers. When they broke apart to breathe, his name was a gasp on her lips, and Dean reached down to find the hem of her oversized shirt, dragging it upwards until she was free and bare to him.

There was a second she had to fight the urge to cover up, shame at her own appearance taking control. But Dean stopped that instinct, pinning her arms above her head and kissing her breathless, before moving down her body, pressing open mouthed kisses as he went.

“Every part of you,” he muttered, between each caress, “is perfect, baby girl. Nothing about you I don’t love.”

Y/N’s heart thumped wildly in her chest, and it only got worse as Dean pushed her thighs apart, nosing at the thin fabric that covered her pussy. She was clenching around nothing, the anticipation feeling like a fire in her belly. “Dean,” she whimpered, closing her eyes when he mouthed her clit through her panties, the tips of two fingers pressing against her hole, teasing her. “God, Dean -”

He chuckled at her desperate tone, the vibrations close to pushing her over the edge. But Dean wasn’t done, and he slowly tugged her panties under her butt, lifting them up until he could slid them down her thighs, down her calves, before flinging them across the room to join his. “Open up for me, sweetheart,” Dean muttered, and Y/N melted like butter at the sultry tone.

The feeling of his tongue on her bare folds was a thousand times more intense than when he’d mouthed her through the material, and Y/N’s entire body tensed, her cries high pitched and slightly hoarse. Dean closed his eyes, focusing everything on her, using his tongue to circle her clit, pushing a single digit into her tight, wet channel.

She cried out, grinding down onto his finger, her orgasm taking him by surprise, but he didn’t stop, dragging her through it until she was shaking and panting heavily. “Want more?” Dean asked, smirking as he kept slowly pumping his finger in and out of her.

“Want you,” Y/N replied, her breathy voice making him smile genuinely.

“You got me,” he responded, and she rolled her eyes at his impetuousness.

“Want you inside me, you dick,” she giggled, reaching for him, and Dean’s smile was wiped off of his face when she crushed her lips to his. Her fingers wrapped around his cock again, guiding him into her, both of them moaning when they finally came together. “Fuck, Dean…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, closing his eyes tightly as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Lift your legs up for me, princess.” She obeyed, and he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head at the added tightness of the angle. Her pussy clutched at him, wet and perfect around him.

“Please,” was her only word, and Dean nodded, pulling his head back so he could watch her face as he fucked her but he couldn’t resist looking down, watching her pussy swallow him whole when he pulled out and thrust back in. “Ugh, fuck, De -”

He wanted to watch her come apart; her eyes fluttered closed as he slammed into her hard, hitting the right spot, feeling her get wetter and wetter with the friction. Her lips parted in a little “o” and she was breathing hard, through her mouth, whimpering and whining in pleasure. 

“Scream for me, sweetheart,” Dean purred, pressing one hand down against her hip so he could fuck into her harder. Her pussy walls clenched around him, and he grunted at the feeling, before she was arching upwards, crushing her mouth against his as she came.

He swallowed her scream, letting her pull him over the edge into oblivion. With each pump of his hips, he filled her up, not stopping until his lungs felt like they were burning, and his hips ached at the overexertion.

Y/N was panting, clinging to him, her skin slick against his, but Dean couldn’t think of any reason to move. He kept his weight off of her, kissing her lazily as they both recovered. Eventually, she patted his chest, and grabbed for the towel she’d discarded the night before.

Clean up was quick, and when they were done, they climbed back into her bed, Dean instantly pressing in behind her, hands roaming over her nude body as he held her close. “Haven’t you had enough?” Y/N whispered, smiling when he kissed the back of her neck.

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

Her smile grew, and she let her eyes fall shut. Neither of them spoke for a while, until he was almost dropping off to sleep, and Y/N turned in his arms. “We’re gonna beat them, Dean,” she whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “You, Sammy and me.”

For once, he didn’t doubt it.


End file.
